


Stockholm Syndrome

by penceyprat



Category: All Time Low
Genre: Consensual Sex, Drug Use, Explicit Sexual Content, Fucked Up, Hallucinations, Insanity, Kidnapping, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Psychopathology & Sociopathy, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rough Sex, Schizophrenia, Self-Harm, Self-Medication, Serial Killers, Stockholm Syndrome, Suicidal Thoughts, please don't read this unless you are ready to be mentally scarred, some is not, some of the sex is consensual, this is so fucked up why did i even write this, trigger warning for like everything under the sun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-07
Updated: 2014-12-07
Packaged: 2018-02-28 12:56:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 102,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2733359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/penceyprat/pseuds/penceyprat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One minute - that's all it takes for me to fall in love with the dusty blonde haired stranger and for Alex to be certain with the identity of his next victim - me. And there I was; drugged, tied to a mattress, raped, attacked and yet I felt guilty. It was my fault Alex was like this. I wasn't complying. I'd messed up his life and I need to feel sorry for him; he knows what's right and that's that I deserve this. I deserve this all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part One

Jack - Day One. 17:43

"Jack just put up with it." My brother's snide tone caught me off guard and I was forced to catch the crate of beer he tossed in my direction; the other option would've given several broken toes and let's say that my dear older brother was hardly in the room for a trip to emergency services right now. "It's not my fault I actually have friends."

I glared at him. Okay, maybe he was right, I was kind of a loner, but I had... thinking about it, who was my friend? Who did I hang out with? No one in particular. Would anyone ever miss me if I just randomly disappeared? No. The answer hung still in the stuffy air and I couldn't quite budge it. Someone must- no. I couldn't, no I wouldn't, accept it. Maybe I should run away and see what happens: a life on the road with no prospects or money, why not? Maybe I- No. I'm too curious for my own good and why do I even care in the slightest. Joe's just winding me up.

The thought wouldn't go away though.

"Jack." He waved a hand frantically in front of my face and I quickly came to my senses and reluctantly heaved the crate of beer over to the table.

"Why do you need to have exactly so much beer for one party? You're not going to drink all of it." There were a good couple of dozen six packs of beer sat on my mother's kitchen table. When she said be good and don't cause havoc before she flew off to Peru for a week ment she didn't want Joe to pull another party that would wreck the house, get him arrested, maybe even get me arrested or if not, in serious trouble with neighbours.

"Jack, you just don't seem to get the concept of guests, do you?" I rolled my eyes, leaning back against the table and adjusting my glasses.

"How many guests, though? Mum even said no parties and you look like you're inviting the whole population of the Congo." I doubted the fact that we could fit 65 million people in our house, but Joe wasn't exactly hindered by much and we had a fairly large garden I guess.

"Well it doesn't matter what Mum said," he narrowed his eyes, his beady eyes cutting into me in an intimidating manner, "because she doesn't have to and she isn't going to, is she, Jack?" I bit my lip and nodded, already hating the whole idea.

I didn't like people, I didn't like alcohol and I didn't like Joe. 

-

21:13

The house already reeks of alcohol; I'm nauseous and I haven't even touched the stuff. Joe's hammered to the point he can barely stand and I think that's the fourth time he's thrown up already. I know for a fact that I can't get that much sick out of rug. We'll have to buy a new one and hastily pass it off and pray that mum wouldn't notice or Joe would just have to make sure she was drunk enough before letting her set foot in the living room.

"Shit." I was harshly pulled out of my thoughts by a guy shoving into my right side. "Dude, are you okay?" I pealed myself off of the wall and turned to face the guy that had shoved me there in the first place and dear god I hope it was accidental, because I may just be looking at the hottest guy ever.

He's got that weird fringe thing going on, but it works for him, especially with his golden hair that shimmers when the light catches it. He has deep brown eyes that seem to be scrutinising me with as much integrity that I am giving my 'inspection' of him. The left corner of his mouth twitched before sliding up into crooked smile that seems to frame his face perfectly. As he pushes his fringe to the right (a subconscious habit - I can tell by the distant look in his eyes as his hand reaches up) his eyebrows are revealed: they're enormous, I just hope the lower half of his body obligates with these proportions. He's wearing black jeans that are so tight I can almost see it, not that I'm complaining, of course. He's paired them with a low cut and rather gay looking, grey t-shirt. Dear God, let him be gay: looking like that there's no way in hell that he wouldn't have countless girls constantly swooning over him.

"Yeah.. yeah.. I'm fine." The words stumbled out in a stupidly high pitched tone and I found myself blushing almost instantly. That's first impressions messed up then, isn't it?

"Good," he smiled at me, pausing a moment, considering something. He puts his hand out towards me, "I'm Alex."

I stared blankly at it for a few moments, before grabbing his hand a little too enthusiastically, "Jack."

He grabbed a beer off the table that I was perched on the edge of, before joining me and slowly sipping from his beer. "You don't look awfully happy."

I nodded, "I'm not: I hate parties, I guess. It sounds stupid, I know, but they're not really my scene. I'd rather be reading or something like that, I guess."

"Someone with a degree of intelligence, that's a first." I let a small smile lap over my lips like gentle waves. "You turned up though didn't you?" I shrugged and he took another swig of his beer, "waiting for someone?" 

"No," I sighed, "it's my brother's party, I'm just sort of stuck with it, I guess."

"I guess," he mimicked. "You say that a lot, don't you?"

"I guess."

-

22:28

Alex is on what I think is his fifth beer now and I'm still sober. I've never drank in my life and I'm not sure whether I should regret this decision or not. Alex and I seem to be getting on okay; he seems perfectly happy to put up with my social incompetence and generally incapability to continue a conversation. It's weird. Have I just made a friend?

"Jaaaaaccckkkk...." He slurred out, leaving me to the conclusion that he was in fact very drunk.

"Mmm..." I nodded, stealing a glance into his perfect eyes.

"Kiss me."

The words didn't sink in at first and it took me a few minutes to spur a wild response, "what?"

"Kiss me, Jack." He winked at me as he spun to face me and I awkwardly did the same.

"Why?" 

"Because I want you to."

I didn't need further persuasion and found my lips swiftly on his. Alex took no hesitation in leading the kiss and pushed me back against the wall, before pushing his tongue between my poised lips. And then his hands, oh god, his hands. Everywhere. I shouldn't be enjoying this. I shouldn't be enjoying the moans he's making. I shouldn't be enjoying the feeling of him pressed up close against me. I should be worried that Joe would see me: no one knows that I'm gay, well I guess Alex has more or less figured that out by now. I pushed the thought away: Joe's too drunk to care, too drunk to see in a straight line, even.

Then it's over all too soon.

"You enjoyed that didn't you?" He whispered into my ear as he slowly pealed himself away from me.

I gulped, but couldn't stop myself from nodding in response.

"That's hot. I like how nervous you get; don't worry I'll look after you." I didn't quite understand what he was getting at here. "You sure you don't want a drink?" I firmly shook my head: I wanted to be sober, especially for this, because I didn't want to ever lose the memories, I didn't want to ever lose this moment right here and I didn't want to ever lose him. "C'mon, I'll get you one." I tried to protest, but before I could he placed the can firmly in my hands, "one can't hurt."

One can't hurt.

I downed it in one go.

And almost immently collapsed against Alex.

One can't hurt.

-

Alex - Day Two. 1:56

I almost felt guilty.

Almost.

The blood, the struggling, the pleas and the subdue as his drugged state collapsed into my arms. He was safe now; he was mine. A grin spread across my features as I locked the door behind him. He was pretty scrawny so one lock ought to contain him perfectly. He'd have to earn it, earn privileges, and earn me. This time I was going to play hard to get. The fun of the chase ended too soon otherwise and then I'd get bored, but I didn't ever want to get bored of Jack Barakat.

His dark eyes and streaked hair. That grin, that innocence. He'd be perfectly submissive when the time came. I just had to make him want me first. Like a strip tease, just with an awful lot more danger. Russian roulette was a great game to play, especially if the gun was fully loaded. He'd whimper, he cry, then his heart would give out and blood would flow across the polished marble flooring- It made me excited just thinking about it.

There was of course the rather irritating issue of getting caught. Despite the fact Joe Barakat was nothing more than a mere acquaintance, I knew he wouldn't press the issue of Jack's disappearance; in fact, I may have even done him a favour. I grinned: I liked it when my work was appreciated. And it was all so much easier to play, so much more fun; no one would really miss Jack Barakat, now would they?

Of course there was the law; at least one dumbstruck loser at school would take notice of the empty seat in front of him. He'd grow warier day by day as the seat remained empty and Jack Barakat remained mine and he'd eventually try to kick up a fuss, go down to the station, maybe? The police, however, were stupid. I'd killed six people before, so why not a seventh? And as much as I liked Jack Barakat, the prized, polished trophy on my blood stained mantle, I was Alex Gaskarth and there was no other way that this was going to end.

People were so much easier to keep when they weren't alive.

I grabbed a soda from my fridge and downed it in one. My eyes drifted to the unopened six pack of Budweiser taunting me from the shelf. I craved it, but no; I couldn't be intoxicated at a time like this. Despite my previous conclusions, I was not stupid and certainly wouldn't dismiss any possibility; who knows, his father may work for the F.B.I., I hadn't done an extensive amount of research. I preferred to interview my clients first hand, whether it is by torture or faked empathy I'd get them to spill and that's when things got so much more interesting, because I knew their weak spots and then I was in total control.

I was the one who fired the shots here and in a quite literal sense too.

Jack - 8:45

It was dark, dark enough for the thought of my eyes being gowdged out to cross my mind. Or maybe I was just blind, or maybe it was just dark. Maybe even a combination of the above, I don't know.

I felt like I ought to be more scared; a thought tugging at the back of mind in a way I couldn't quite understand. The fact that I'd blacked out and couldn't remember anything since talking to that guy probably contributed greatly to this. What was the guy's name? Alex, yes! His name was Alex.

Then it hit me. Oh my god, I'd been drugged. My first reaction was to hold up three fingers to see if I was high or something, but then my inability to see came back to bite me in the butt.

I considered shouting out but concluded that the risks outweighed the pros and I was better just sitting here until something happened, despite the fact that it felt like nothing would ever happen at all. Maybe I was dead, maybe that wouldn't be so bad and I began to concern myself with how many people would attend my funeral so much that I didn't notice the door unlock and slowly creak open.

"Hello Jack." I looked up in panic to see light streaming in from outside the room, illuminating the figure in almost Godly manner.

"H-hello..." I stammered out, not knowing what else to say. The figure flipped a switch and light filled the room and I squinted, my eyes which were thankfully unharmed, unused to any light from being in this room for God knows how long. Then I focused on the figure and everything collapsed, because I recognised the guy - it was Alex. "Alex-" I stammered out.

"Good, you can remember me," he grinned wildly at me, "I was beginning to think I had given you too much Rohypnol, I should've counted out the dose precisely, but then again you weren't a planned target, Jack and it depends per person how much is need to work sufficiently and of course I wanted you out quick so I had to take a slight overdose risk there, but you're fine now-"

"Rohypnol." I repeated, the words not quite sinking in. "That's the date rape drug." Alex nodded expressionlessly. "So is that what's happening? Raping me?" He laughed.

"You're underestimating me, Jacky. I was going more down the kidnap route." I gulped. I was being kidnapped... by an incredibly hot guy? How is that even relevant; it's still bloody kidnap and he's still bloody mental! I groaned: why was this happening?

Why are all the hot ones clinically insane?

I began to remember my crush on Jared who collected skulls and dead animals in seventh grade. He was weird to put it lightly, but he had a really nice smile, it was infectious, more infectious than half the shit he carried around in his backpack on a daily basis even. Then there was Robin in ninth grade with the obsession with eyeliner and black metal... and murder. He talked in a thick accent and explained in great detail how to hide a body without getting caught, but he was so short and thin and cute looking it was hard to take him seriously. Had I justified murderous thoughts on the basis of being cute?

I began to think I had some sort of fetish.

-

Jack. Day Three - 10:22

When I woke up after being drugged with a combination of things that I'd rather not know the details and in particular, side effects of; I found myself in a lit up room. Unnatural light beaming down from a naked bulb dangerously hanging from the ceiling. Of course there was no natural light: I doubted Alex would even consider that sort of privilege. Despite the fact I'd only known the guy for a few days, I'd picked up a lot regarding his painfully irrational personality and homicidal tendencies. I should definitely be more scared then I am; in afterthought, I think it's probably something to do with the drugs, maybe he's given me some marijuana as well, or something much more dangerous altogether. Most likely the latter - dangerous seemed to be more of his style.

Kidnapping a guy from his own brother's party? That wasn't even reckless, more of plain stupid. Joe would surely notice the fact he was gone, wouldn't he? I hoped he would: despite how much I could hate my brother and no care at all regarding his opinion, I did care if he didn't notice I'd been bloody kidnapped. My kidnapper was rather hot- psychotic and he would probably end up slitting my throat. Stop worrying, Jack; Joe would be at the police station right now.

Joe was at the police station this very second, but in a holding cell rather than to report Jack's disappearance.

I couldn't wait forever, though. God knows what Alex has planned for me. It sounds disgusting to even call him that, give such a cold blooded killer, a name, a person, an identity. No, Alex was that hot, dusty blonde guy that met me at Joe's party, who avoided my awkwardness and talked to me for an hour. Alex was not the guy who kidnapped me, that wasn't Alex anymore. Maybe he was schizophrenic? Maybe he was drugged? Or drunk? Or forced to do it? Maybe it was a set up? Maybe it was Joe getting me back for those fucking boxes? Maybe I should stop trying to prove him innocent. Maybe I should stop reasoning with the truth and just accept that there was no Alex, it was all just a kidnap.

I looked down at the bed I was sat on. He'd given me a bed, I wasn't even chained to it - of course the door would be locked and he'd only hear me trying it and get angry. Maybe I should try to escape? 

No windows.

Alex was clever; of course there were no windows, not even a crack in the wall - nada, nothing. He had this place securer than Alcatraz. I'd like to say that was an overstatement, but it really wasn't.

Then the door flung open, revealing Alex- No, him. He was holding a knife in one hand and had the most psychotic smile painted across his face. I was shaking instantly and inched back against the headboard.

He laughed, no it was more like a cackle, a witchy cackle, a shriek that pierced my eardrums, "I'm not going to hurt you." He placed the knife down on the table beside the door, locking the thing in the process. "It's just here to make things interesting." I raised one eyebrow and he grinned, all the more eager to explain. "You could grab it if you want. No chains, no nothing - there's nothing stopping you." He was right; I could easily grab it. "But, if you grabbed it, what would be my next move then?" He raised his eyebrows at me, "I haven't got all day, Jacky. Think carefully - what would my next move be?"

"I don't know." The words fell loosely from my lips.

"Well you're in trouble then aren't you, Jacky?" I bitterly nodded, "think carefully."

"Would you try to pull the knife off me?" I asked, unsure, because the guy was mad; how could I possibly predict his next move.

"I'm the one asking the questions here, Jacky." He paused, "if you pulled out a knife and attempted to stab me. I'd jump back, away from the blade, away from its bite. Grab your wrist with my hand go behind you, grab your jaw with my other hand and pull it left. Bring you to the ground. Put my knee on your head. Break your thumb, twist your arm, snap your wrist, crush every fucking bone in your fucking body. And then, Jacky; then things start to get interesting."

To say I was scared would be a stupid understatement; I was shivering, quaking, my heart pounding out of my chest.

"Shall we practice?" I remained silent, praying he was joking. "Shall we, Jacky?" He wasn't joking, was he? "Do you want to grab the knife, or shall I? Shall I grab the knife and see if you can, see if you have the nerve to break this pretty little face. Would that be more to your liking, Jacky? The odds are in your favour; I'm giving you the choice here." I panicked. "Now what's it to be?"

My first reaction would be to take the knife, but hearing just how he could recite exactly how to disarm and kill me, I wasn't so keen. Maybe he should take the knife - no, that was stupid, don't give the serial killer the knife. There was no win in this situation.

"Neither of us should take the knife."

"Awh, Jacky!" He moaned like a toddler. "Do you want to play a different game?" I nodded briskly, not caring what else he could possibly come up with. "But this one's so much fun!"

"I want to play a different game."

"No, Jacky." He winked at me, "believe me, you don't. Different games are for different days and this is hardly a game, Jacky - this is a warm up." This is a warm up. This is a warm up- at least that means he doesn't intend to kill me, but really I don't know which is worse. "Now then Jacky, do you want to take the knife, or shall I?"

"I'll take the knife."

He snorted. "That's interesting. People don't usually go for that option, but then again, you're not people, you're Jack Barakat. You're special." I hated it, I hated the sweet talk, buttering me up before he committed a murder - what the fuck. People; other people, other people had played this game before.

"Before we start," he nodded. "Answer me one question."

"Depends on the question."

"I'm taking a knife that you've just explained to me in detail will easily get me killed, I deserve one question." He shrugged.

"It's debatable."

"The other people, who played this game and took the other option, did they win?"

"No."

I grabbed the shaft of the knife in my hand. Hello death, old friend.

He lunged at me before I could even think. How as he grabbed me, one thought flashed across my mind - he was going for the wrists. I'd heard his plan, I knew what to do. I took a swing at his right arm and he coiled it back, grinning manically as he writhed in the pain.

Next he was going behind me, going for the jaw. I spun, keeping him in my eyeline at all times and knocking him back as he reached out. His grin only widened. He soon got bored and pushed me to the ground- shit. I clutched the blade tightly, ready to keep it on arm at all times. I rolled onto my front, pushing him off me as he went to secure me down and I clung to him, pulling myself up and taking a slash at him with the knife. It was a good slash, in perfect aim, but he dodged it perfectly of course.

Was I supposed to fight back? Yes, getting the knife was winning the game, so I just had to push him down, I guess. Maybe even kill him? As weird as it sounds, I daren't kill him. I'm not a murderer, he is. I couldn't kill him, maybe I'd just knock him out and surely he'd have the key on him somewhere, then I'd escape and he'd be alright- but he knows where I live and he knows where to find me and stealing me away would surely be so much easier if he did it for a second time. Maybe I'd have to kill him, after all.

I pushed him back against the floor and pointed the knife down, putting my knee against him and pushing. "Do I fucking win now?" I snapped. "Is this over? Or should I just kill you?"

"Yes, I do believe you've won and as much as I hate to lose, I'm glad somebody finally gets it, understands how to play the game, someone picked the weapon, someone chose the route that was handed to them. Jacky, I think you and I are rather alike, you know." He paused. "And go ahead, kill me. What's stopping you? But really, do you think an act like that will go unpunished. My deeds don't die with me, Jacky. I have a lot of allies. More than you'd think."

I tossed the knife to the side and he got up, grinning at me. "Well done, Jacky. You won and that's because you and me," he gestured between us, "are rather alike. And that, Jacky, is why you won't die today. Tomorrow, I can't say. Maybe you'll just have to impress me.

Maybe I'll be the jester to a psychopathic king.

-

Jack. Day Four - 19:43

His face looms at me through the darkness; those bright eyes, a beacon in the pitch black that engulfed the room. He made no acknowledgement to the fact that I'd noticed him, sitting there, smiling at me, but I knew he knew. Alex was clear like that; stupidly clever and stupidly murderous. In other words a dreadful combination. A dreadful combination was of course the only thing that could accidentally concoct someone so perfect looking as Alex Gaskarth.

I had no idea how long he had been sitting there for and for what purpose? Even God could only begin to imagine. Alex's mind was definitely something extraordinary, similar to Einstein's and if he just cut loose on the murder and kidnap and god knows what else, then maybe he'd be somewhere. Maybe he'd be the man I got taught about in history class rather than the man I got warned about in social studies. It was rather saddening how he'd put his knowledge, his power to such a waste. And for the first time I began to feel sorry for him. Then I really knew I was starting to lose it, but Alex, Alex was different from your average murderer - I should stop using that term so casually; I think he was having a rather disturbing effect on me.

20:06

"Do you believe in monsters, Jacky?" The first words he'd spoke in this enigmatic silence, darkness cloaked around me at such tightness fierce enough to cut off my air supply; the first words were irrelevant. The first words were the words of a madman; there was no explanation just, just a question. "Answer the question and then I'll turn the light on." To be honest, the constant state of darkness was beginning to unsettle me more than a little; however I pushed it aside, the rational part of my brain deciding that maybe the serial killer sat feet away from you was a bigger priority. It was weird, because lately I was beginning to get more comfortable around Alex, maybe even trust him. Because, try as my ignorant mind might, I just couldn't imagine those deep brown eyes killing me. I couldn't imagine Alex slashing at my throat, or putting a gun to my head, or anything along those horribly morbid lines. I just couldn't think that Alex Gaskarth would end up killing me.

I'm taking a shot in the dark here, but I don't think he intends to either.

Part of me thinks that he just wants me to think he will; part of me thinks that he just wants me to be scared of him.

I don't think he likes to kill. I just think he gets bored and when some people get bored they watch cat videos, or knit, or give in and write their seven point evidence explain paragraph history essay on the causes of the English Civil War that they really should be doing right now, but Alex is different, his brain I think, works differently, because when Alex is bored none of the above will satisfy him and I think, when Alex is bored, he turns to murder. How many empty seconds before he pulls the gun out though? How long do I have? Is there even a specified grace period or is this all just Russina Roulette? I don't know and I think that's what Alex enjoys most - being clever.

The answer is plain and simple - I have to keep him entertained, because he's messing his life up like this; you can't fix your life by ending another. God just doesn't let it work like that, not that I was really one for religion anyway. But science doesn't really fit the bill; karma isn't exactly a scientific theory, to put it lightly.

"I know you don't like sitting here in the dark, Jacky." I nodded- no, that was too boring. Entertain him, Jack, entertain him. Do you want to live?

"No, I don't." I paused, his features pulled up into a creepy grin as I responded and I instantly knew my tactics were working. The grin disgruntled me of course, but there were things I was going to have to get used to if I wanted to keep breathing and keep seeing those brown eyes of his, that I definitely shouldn't adore as much as I do.

"Then answer my question." I heard him inhale slowly and from my mind's eye I saw him sat there, slowly sucking all the air out of room until I suffocated- no. That would be far too inefficient; if he wanted to suffocate me then he'd use air vents, pumping toxic gas into the room, slowly at first and then as the gas infiltrated my lungs, it would come all at once and finish me off. However, suffocation was hardly the most entertaining method of killing someone and knowing him I know he'd prefer to do it personally; a knife, a gun, a whip, his fists. He doesn't care, he just wants to make sure it's him who slashes my neck, who puts a bullet through my heart, who rips my organs apart, who lands the final, lung crushing blow. Alex likes things to be personal; he likes to get to know people, he wants to know if they're interesting enough, if they're worth his time.

"Tell me, Jacky. Do you believe in monsters?" The words drift gracefully into the silence.

I had no clue how to respond to the rather absurd question he'd fired at me. What was he expecting and more importantly how the heck was he going to use this information? Or maybe he was just insane and I was being hit by a madman's ramblings... or maybe I was just insane and I was hallucinating the whole ordeal? Hallucination certainly had its pros: this wasn't real, Alex wasn't a killer and more importantly - it'd all stop.

No, it's real. Everything feels far too real. Even I, couldn't imagine something as messed up as this. Or at least I was hoping so, for my sanity's sake at least. However, I wasn't exactly sure that being locked up with Alex was very good for my mental stability.

"I'm waiting, Jacky." And now, I start to get scared, because he's starting to get impatient, he's starting to get bored and bored is most definitely a bad thing. Bored, for Alex Gaskarth, is a very bad, very murderous thing.

"No," I sighed, "I don't believe in monsters." I don't believe in monsters, because underneath the murder, the kidnap, the knives, the insanity, Alex Gaskarth is still human. It's not the words, it's not how you act, it's not who you are, it's not what you look like that defines it, it's the blood pumping through his veins, it's the air he breathes into his lungs, it's the brain that sends signals and it's the essence, it's the sentience. And even in his savage, psychotic frame, there's sentience, no amount of psychopathy can take that away. Or at least I hoped so. I hoped that his barely beating heart still held any emotion of some kind. I was scared it couldn't and that he'd switched off that function many years ago. I hoped I could switch it back on. Or maybe he'd even ripped the switch right out of its socket, leaving it to electrocute anyone who tried to function it.

Then it hit me: the reason for my answer.

I don't believe in monsters, because Alex Gaskarth is human.

"That's rather stupid of you." I didn't react to his statement and simply listened as he got up and flickered the light back on. I ignored the blinding sensation as the light rays penetrated my eyes and focused on his instead. Those brown eyes. I'd never been so happy to remind myself that they exist. I like his eyes, I think it's because his eyes are the most human. His eyes carry the real smile, not the psychopathic grin on his lips; his eyes looked sad with who he was, but happy to see me and that was the only reassurance I needed, that Alex wasn't a broken switch; he was fully functioning, if not a little rusty.

He sat back down in the now lit room, but closer to me this time. Adjacent and only about a metre away sat Alex and his gun. Alex had a gun today. Pushed casually into the front pocket of his jeans as if it was a cell phone and not a weapon that could end someone's life with a single pull on the trigger. Alex is like that he can't appreciate or even begin to understand the importance that comes along with shooting that bullet, pulling that trigger and removing an innocent person from reality. I wonder if Alex even knows just how real, just how devastating and just how much all of this, his every action, matters.

"You've noticed it, haven't you?" His face turned up into a morbid smile, "you've noticed the gun." I gulped, making no attempt to muffle it, because I knew he liked it, I knew he liked the fear and the goose bumps on my arm in the fully heated room.

"Yeah," the word comes out shakily, my eyes fixated upon the weapon in his jeans. I then look up into those eyes, those human eyes that calm me down considerably. "Can I ask you something?" The words cautiously slip from behind my lips and I wonder if I ought to spend the next few moments regretting them completely.

He looks excited, far too excited. "Yes, of course. In fact I'd be delighted to know what's going on in that brain of yours, what you think about me. Go on, ask ahead." He paused and grinned, "the more the better." That sounds horribly dangerous, then again I do believe that is practically Alex's tagline. Along with 'murderous psychopath with lovely eyes', of course; I couldn't forget that one, now could I?

"Is the answer to this blindingly obvious or..." I took a deep breath, "why do you have that gun?" He chuckled a little and I shivered, edging back into the wall, figuring I'd excited him a little too a much and that maybe he'd run full circle, excitement edging him to kill me just as much as bored would. Maybe I'd have to even things out, be the balancing weight on the other side of the scales, because somehow for some reason I felt responsible for Alex, I felt responsible for those stupidly perfect brown eyes that I couldn't, just couldn't get out of my head. Eyes, even perfect eyes shouldn't make me overlook hundreds of dead bodies that sickeningly most likely lay somewhere in this house. Maybe right above my head, or even below my feet? I had no clue and I figured Alex wouldn't exactly like it if I asked such a direct question.

"Does it scare you, Jacky?" His tone isn't patronising or even creepy for once, it actually sounded like he cares; now I think I'm going mad. "It's just a gun, it's harmless as long as I don't fire it." And that was the exact reason why I didn't trust him with a gun, I didn't trust him not to just fire it out of the blue, because he was bored and wanted a reaction, something exciting, an explosion maybe. Or maybe just another dead body. Maybe I'd be hung on a wall somewhere. Or simply fed to god knows what. There'd be no gravestone bearing my name; I wondered if I even had a police file, if there was even a case open at all. It certainly didn't feel like it and that was slowly wearing away at me.

"Yes," I sighed, "as long as you don't fire it being the key phrase there." He chuckled and I had to stop myself from rolling my eyes overly dramatically. It was weird, because I almost had to remind myself to be careful, to remind myself how many people he'd killed. And remembering that was even weirder, because Alex didn't feel like a psychopath, he felt like my best friend.

"Hmm... I don't think I will. We had a break in this morning." I spit the breath I was inhaling out all over him. He just casually dropped that on me? Of course he would've, to a murderer, I guess a break in was like tripping over the bottom step as you rushed downstairs in order to get ready on time.

"What kind of break in? A police break in? A robbery break in? I don't even know where we are and who you consider by we-" I'm in a frenzy by now and Alex's far too calm tone certainly wasn't helping.

"Shush, Jacky." He reached out and patted me in an awkwardly affectionate way on the knee. "It's fine. We're in my house, it's rather large don't you think? There are an awful lot of rooms and it definitely feels better having you in one of them. It was just some petty burglar. I took care of him. The police aren't interested in us." That hit me hard; straight in the balls.

The police aren't interested in us.

I'm unsure whether to be overjoyed, or take the gun from his pocket and shoot myself directly through the skull. Morbid I know and no doubt he'd stop me, wanting the honour himself. Narcissistic son of a bitch.

"Wait, what do you mean took care of him?" I knew what he meant, I just didn't want to think about it, and another bullet put in someone's skull, once again by Alex Gaskarth. It was certainly wearing away at my sanity.

"What do you think the gun was for?" I shrugged.

"Oh." He shot someone, just this morning and now we're having a conversation, a calm, normal (well as normal as it gets) conversation. This whole ordeal was messed up, well more messed up than it should have been.

"Don't worry, Jacky." He shuffled closer to me. "Lots of people have them." I felt uncomfortable, with his hand and that trigger centimetres away from me, but of course, I daren't voice my concerns - he'd be more than furious.

"I know, it's just- Alex," It's the first time I've spoken his name aloud since Joe's party and I already feel a wave of sickness rising in my stomach, because he's not just some killer anymore - I've humanised him. I've made him real. "It's just most people don't use them so frequently, most people don't murder people." Is this all a game to him? How can he not grasp the fact that he's ending the lives of innocent people, with families, children, friends and jobs? Just because he's bored. I'm glad I'm here to entertain him: someone has to.

"I know." He replied all too calmly. "I'm just not most people." That was for certain, if anything was anymore in this messed up hellish mayhem.

"I know." I sighed. "If you were most people, I wouldn't be here right now." And that shouldn't upset me, because if Alex was normal I probably would have never seen him again, but if Alex was normal I would be free. But part of me was glad, stupid, reckless and glad that I was normal, that I wasn't free, that I was with Alex, because he was lonely and quite certainly, he needed someone. That issue was not debatable. He needed someone to sort him out and tell him when to put the gun down; I just had to get him to trust me first.

"It's foolish not to believe in monsters, Jacky, because some of them are very real." He referred to the first words he spoke into the darkness. He had this weird mind that only seemed to believe in irrelevance and psychotic tendencies, but I liked it. The way Alex thought was interesting, yet incredibly concerning at the same time. I should be more worried about that gun than him, but I was really in a terrible mess already, so I pushed it aside and let myself fret over those brown eyes. I let myself care about Alex Gaskarth and not what he'd do to me.

"Are you talking about yourself or my family?" Honestly, I had no clue and I wasn't exactly quite sure which was worst. I began to wonder if he even knew my brother or just turned up at his party in the mess of people out of blue, armed with his mad grin and irrestible charm and most likely a gun in his back pocket. Alex definitely seemed like the kind of guy to religiously never leave the house without a weapon, but for very different reasons than most people. Alex's gun wasn't for self-defence, it was for self-entertainment.

"Neither." He paused I'm talking about the things you see in the corner of your eye, the things you don't quite see, because Jacky monsters are everywhere - you just have to figure out who they are." I remained silent, just staring at him, "you don't believe me, Jacky, but listen here. When you dream, your mind can't make up faces so it uses the ones you've seen: the guy you sat next on the train; the lady who was in front of you in the queue; the girl that served you at Starbucks; the boy that you helped up in the street." I nodded. "But think about the nightmares, Jacky. Who do you have nightmares about? What do you have nightmares about? Because, like or not, you've seen those faces too."

"Surely I'd remember." I don't quite want to believe what he's saying, because quite frankly, it terrifies me. Terrifying people appeared to be one of Alex's rather prominent strong points and I wasn't exactly sure how to react to that other than to take it as it comes and trying to apply a substantial amount of sanity to this insane situation.

"Hmm... that's what you think. But maybe your mind decided otherwise, because you can remember, you just don't want to."

"Monsters are as real as you and I, Jacky. And like it or not, monsters are just like you and I. Jacky."

-

Alex. Day Five - 2:58

I need to feel something: pain, anger, fear, happiness, sorrow, joy, or even, the unspeakable, non-existing love. It doesn't matter which: I don't feel anything at all and I need to, I'm going mad in this empty shell. It's only so long until these fleshy prison walls cave in and my eyes will shut for the final time. That can't happen, not now anyway: I have a purpose to fulfil that's hardly begun, and I hope whatever being is up there, that they have mercy and a sense of understanding if it does eventually come down to that. It sounds narcissistic, but I can't die, not yet.

I need to sort things out, get my priorities in order, because I don't like it, but I won't lost much longer like this. My brain is a peculiar thing, a clockwork bomb and stimulation is the only thing that will prolong the countdown. Some days, sometimes however, I get so desperate that I want to, that I need to let the seconds tick down so I can explode because I need to feel something even if it does end me. It's like being dehydrated and drinking litre after litre of water, but no matter how much you drink, nothing can really quench your thirst. I'm the sea in the middle of the desert, greedy and cackling, but as soon as I take a drink, my waters are toxic and poisoned with sand.

To give my aforementioned simile some context, think of me as the dehydrated suffer, with a thirst wild and untameable; think of dehydration itself as the time bomb with seconds ticking down until I die, because no matter how pretend the water seems, how dry it makes my throat, the consequences of not drinking it are far too real in comparison. Finally, think of my victims as the litres of water; I always need more, I need to keep my thirst quenched, but it never works. It never fucking works! Maybe I should try something else altogether, something exciting, but maybe slightly more legal; I don't know, snowboarding or something pathetically healthy like that.

But, you know what? Let me tell you something that's been bothering me immensely; it's been the first time anxiety has set foot in these bones for years and I'm not sure if I appreciate it. It hurts to feel, it hurts even more than the decaying numbness that is there otherwise. Emotions are like the daggers that slit your throat and numbness is like the torture rack, slowing pulling you apart. This anxiety however, has a cause a very real cause; it's a cause that I was at first overjoyed with until I realised the gravity of my poor situation, until I felt the human blood pumping through my veins and I heard my heartbeat in silent moments - it's driving me insane, because it never fucking shuts up. My brain is awake, it's alive with thoughts that I don't need, trivial matters that'll only slow me down like worrying about how lonely I am and whether I need to eat. You're missing the positive part in this entirely, the thirst went away. My thirst is quenched and I hate to say it, but I think I know why, and boy, I do not like the reason.

This all started as soon as Jack got here. Those brown eyes into mine; the sadness, the longing, the desire to oblige, to make me happy, keep me entertained and as much as I hated to say it, Jack was my favourite victim- No, I wasn't, I shouldn't be allowed to have favourites, because if I have favourites, then I get attached and attachment is an emotion, a human desire that I've spent my life striving away from - I can't relapse now over some stupid boy with stupidly perfect eyes.

I should have suspected it really; eventually there'd be one that made it stop, one that I didn't need to kill, because they kept the thirst at bay. He hasn't just prolonged the time bomb inside of me, he's gotten rid of it entirely. The whole thing just ripped out of me chest. It scares me, because I haven't felt this human in years, and to put it lightly, I don't exactly like it. I don't appreciate the constant pounding in my chest, the in out mechanism that draws in breath after breath, and let me tell you, the sex drive's horrible.

I need to be reckless, I need to shut off this desire, this compassion, this loving and care I seem to have developed for this boy. Maybe the thing I need to cut off is his air supply? Or maybe just carve his heart out- No; maybe I could do something all the more heartless (pardon the pun) entirely. Something just that little bit more fun, and a heck of a lot more dangerous. Fun and dangerous? Right up my street.

-

Jack. Day Five - 17:13

Alex hadn't spoken to me all day and I know it shouldn't, but it was really beginning to bother me. Simply because, well Alex didn't just do things; his brain ticked in perfect synchronisation, rather like clockwork, which meant he didn't just do, or not do things - for Alex everything was for a reason and even the slightest fluctuation in the normal timeline of events meant a dreadful cause for suspicion. Dreadful because, we both knew that Alex was the smarter one here, so it was really always up to him what happened, what course of actions I took, no matter how much he liked to play the cards into my hand, he always had the final ace hidden in his pocket. And of course, concluding that, the bastard always won.

The insanity set in further as the Alex-less hours passed by, indicated only be a sole clock on the wall ticking out far too loudly to let me think in peace. i even begin to get worried about him, because I hadn't a clue what was happening. All I had were nervous assumptions based upon the simple fact that Alex was cleverer than me, which meant he could easily outsmart me, so I'd pose no threat to him whatsoever. Other people however, people could not know the exact intelligence and murderous capacities of, and after all Alex had mentioned allies before and from what I know about the arrogant guy. I'm guessing the word 'allies' is to be taken rather lightly.

Was he the kind of guy to hang around with people smarter than for an advantage, or the one to acquaint himself with those of lesser intelligence just to make himself feel better? He was arrogant, but maybe not quite that arrogant. I think these allies were rather clever too, simply because I doubted that he could cope with constant explaining everything to stupid people without dragging an axe through their skulls. This would be rather messy in both physical and legal aspects, but it wasn't exactly as if Alex actually had an ounce of respect the law and abiding by legal boundaries was simply far too tedious for him.

Maybe he was in trouble right now. Maybe I should help him- if only, if only he hadn't thought to chain me to the wall- No, I'd hardly be any use to aid Alex against the 'allies' that someone of his nature would undoubtedly have. I should just wait here and hope that if someone does eventually open the door, it'll be Alex and Alex alone. I could never be just that lucky though? Now could I?

-

18:42

The door clicked open and there stood Alex, alone and grinning. I'd never been happier to see a serial killer in my life, and judging from manicness of his grin, he'd never been happier to see me either. But I should've known, this was Alex, this was the wrong kind of happiness entirely. I doubted this was even happiness entirely and more of some gruesome burning, bubbling pot of maniacal narcissism and self-righteousness that was about to explode.

"Hello Jacky." His voice rang out in a creepy tone as he locked the door behind him. The whole room stank of 'bad predictable horror movie' and his tone of voice certainly fit into that criteria, but there was no murder weapon, no nothing to be found, which of course could only lead to cruel intentions that I hadn't a clue to the identity of, which made it all the more entertaining for Alex of course. I forget I'm the sock puppet in this messed up relationship sometimes. But he sure does a hella of a good job of reminding my sorry eyes.

"Hello Alex." I decided to play along, watching his every movement through narrowed eyes. I hated the fact that I had to be cautious; I hated the fact that I had to be scared of him. I just wanted him to be normal and to be able to know him like a normal person. I wanted to be friends, at least friends, would be fine. We'd text and chat and go to stupid concerts together and argue over favourite bands and he'd mock my nerdiness and I'd mock that weird little fringe he has going on - it works for him, but whatever. My little fantasy is so blatantly fake it makes me sick to my stomach, because no, there was none of that: we murder, we panic, we forgot about emotions and we spend hours making sure the over doesn't end us, but most importantly we end up falling in a mess, an untidy heap, we fall- I fall, no I fell in fact, for Alex.

Those eyes glistened at me; he ran his tongue over his lips, tempting fate, and tempting possibility. "I'm bored, Jacky." The words hit me like a sack of bricks over my head and my eyes immediately darted about the place, looking for the knife, looking for the gun, looking for the weapon. There was none of course, I'd covered that earlier, but my panicked self was not exactly a pro when it came to common sense, well to put it lightly. To put it realistically, I was a neurotic wreck, who fell in love with serial killers- No, not just any serial killer, Alex Gaskarth. The kidnapper, murderer, unknown to the police, deadly and stupidly clever, along with horribly narcissistic.

He chuckled a little, "don't look so nervous: you and I are going to have a little fun." I swallowed hard, knowing far too well that his definition of fun differed greatly from mine. Films and food was hardly comparable to murder and kidnap. Alex Gaskarth was hardly comparable to me, yet he insisted oh so persistently that we, he and I, were alike. That scared me and it ought to, because common knowledge was that Alex was usually right. I chose to ignore that fact momentarily, simply for the childish and stupid reason that I didn't like it.

******[[THERE IS RAPEY SMUT NOW IF YOU DO NOT FEEL COMFORTABLE READING IT THEN SKIP DOWN TO THE NEXT PART IN BOLD OK]]*******

He grabbed me by my wrists and pushed me down onto the moth-eaten mattress I'd barely slept upon. I didn't quite know how to react or exactly what was happening or in a more rational afterthought - why I'd not even considered this, or let alone expected it. I just trusted Alex too much and that was going to end up getting me killed and most likely at his hand, behind his gun, with his finger behind the trigger, but the situation I had landed myself in now was all the more concerning. And that was precisely why Alex had chosen this trial, this test; because he knew I'd fail like a stupid little bitch.

He pinned me against the mattress, his still manically grinning figure looming above me, "do you know how this goes, Jacky?" He ran a hand through his hair and bit his lip in a way that shouldn't make me fall for him; I shouldn't be so devilish attracted to someone so downright devilish as Alex. "Or should I run it through to you?" he leaned in, his breath cold against my ear. I shivered in my skin, having him millimetres away from me was both terrifying, yet wonderful. I just didn't quite want it to go like this. I never wanted it to go like this, because despite the sickening feat that was about to occur, I still found myself in admiration, in lust, in love with him; it was stupid. I was stupid. Stupid people deserve punishing, I guess. Just not, maybe not like this. Well, it wasn't not exactly common knowledge that Alex had little to no regard for moral code, values or law.

I remained in a comatose silence as his words still hung like ghosts about my ear. He didn't like this, one bit. He pushed me down into the mattress by my shoulders, "did your parents not teach about sex, Jacky?" He'd put it rather bluntly, an unquestionable matter that I was not allowed to object to. Then it finally seemed to sink it, he was going to rape me. Alex Gaskarth was going to do that to me. I was going to be the one to lose it to him. It just didn't fit right and the thought made me want to expel all my internal organs through my throat.

I hated to admit it, but I was a virgin. A sad lonely virgin, but that didn't matter; no one deserved to lose it like this, especially not from him. He wouldn't be gentle either, that I could tell. He'd go as he wanted, he'd top, he'd be in control and he'd make me into some sick little puppet of his, but I hated the thought deep inside of me, screaming and screaming at me that I was going to have to shut up and enjoy what I could of it. It was sex; there'd surely be pleasure involved? I hadn't a clue, or the courage to ask Alex and that menacing gaze in his eyes.

It was the eyes, his eyes, which really struck me, because his eyes were still brown, deep and perfect. They were still the same eyes from when I first met him at Joe's party, five days ago. The rest of him was considerably more dishevelled and psychotic looking, but his eyes remained the same and that didn't look like it was going to change any time soon. Some say the eyes are the windows to the soul, but in Alex's case I'd say they were the opposite. Alex's eyes were an echo, a shadow, a reflection of what used to be and what could never be again. A ghost at the gate to the graveyard, nothing more than a shimmering silhouette in the light, but an unforgettable one at that. I couldn't forget this; that was for sure.

"Alex-" I choked out, attempting to pull in fresh breaths of air that hadn't been polluted by his musky scent, mixed with blood and gunpowder. "Please don't, I-" It of course, was no use and I even sounded rather pathetic simply trying, but then again Alex had this weird ability and intimidating quality just to make people feel pathetic, sometimes simply by looking at them. Or maybe it was just my stupid amount of respect for someone so unworthy of respect as him.

"I'm bored, Jacky." His fingers ran up the inside of my shirt, "it's your job to entertain me, haven't you figured that out yet?" Soon he pulled the thing clean off, leaving my exposed torso for him to play with and generally do god knows what to. He ran an ice cold finger across my chest, leaving a paler streak of skin where his finger ran. "Think of this as payment you little bitch." He traced over the line with his nail, making a surprisingly deep cut across my chest. The blood streamed out across my skin and he grinned at it manically, almost turned on and I was more than scared by now.

I let out a shriek of pain; he showed no compassion, simply putting a finger to his lips to shush me. "Alex-" His fingers ran over the waistband of my boxers. I shivered down into the mattress as his fingertips collided with the exposed skin. "Please, stop. I don't want to do this!" I yelled relentlessly, pathetically, stupidly like a small child wailing for candy, and the parents had already put earplugs in. I could keep complaining, screaming for hours, for days, forever, but he'd never let himself hear me.

He ignored my pleads and simply looked me straight in the eye, "don't waste your voice, Jacky." A grin passed over his dirty lips, "you'll be putting it to good use later." And without hesitation his fingers went straight to my zipper. My jeans were off and tossed to the floor before I could even comprehend another plea for him to stop. It finally occurred to me that he wasn't going to stop, no matter how much I was asking him to. I should've known really: after all, it was Alex. He liked to win. He liked to win more than anything and that was horribly, sickeningly dangerous, like a drink spiked with something nasty; flashback here we go. Remind me never to touch anything at a party ever again, especially if it's been in his hands, I wouldn't be surprised if he had sedatives injected into the tips of his fingers that he could release as and when he thought appropriate.

"Maybe I should just confiscate your clothes entirely." He thought aloud. I panicked as I heard, because no, that was not a good idea, because I certainly did not enjoy this, no matter how much he wanted me to, I was not like him. "You look so much more beautiful free from those fabric prison bonds." His words were like poetry and he spoke in a whisper worthy of a bedtime story not this, not rape. I was sick- no he was sick, he was sick in the mind and he needed healing, I just doubted that I could, I couldn't- I was worthless, stupid, idiotic, useless - I was just Jack, I was just me. I wasn't important.

"The only bonds here are the ones you've tied me to the wall with!" I snapped it him, pulling down on my chains, ignoring the scaring that'd undoubtedly make a permanent appearance on my wrists if he ever untied me. It'd be a sickening reminder, an accidental drunken tattoo, but with a heck of a lot more meaning of course. With a terrible meaning, a terrible reminder- if I ever got out that was. I was beginning to doubt that I would even more day by day.

"Hmm..." He paused for a moment. "Yes, they are a little restricting." A little? Never before have I met a man that thought clothes were more restricting than chains. Well, I guess I don't know many nudists, but that's hardly the point. "You'll have to prove your worth to me though, dear Jacky." Fuck him. Fuck him. And ironically, that was exactly what I was being forced to do. It was growing even more sadistic by the second and I couldn't hate it more- No. He'd know, and boy he'd make me hate it more.

He pulled my boxers clean off without any warning simply for my reaction. He didn't even glance at it. I on the other hand was more concerned about the indecent exposure I was being exposed to. "Alex. I'm a virgin. I-I- I don't want to do this." He stopped for a moment, and I began to let the possibility that he may consider slip through my mind, but of course he wouldn't - it is Alex, after all. Alex doesn't give a damn if he's enjoying himself then it's fine.

"I'll go easy on you, Jacky - don't worry." He began to remove his own clothing with one hand as he held me down with the other. I imagined he trusted that the chains would restrain me sufficiently, but he just liked to touch my exposed skin. He liked to make me feel uncomfortable and he liked just how much power he had now. I, on the other hand despised it. My trust in this man degrading rapidly, but surely that was advantageous, considering our current situation. How could I trust somebody like this?

"Alex, just kill me. I don't care, but please not this." I looked up into those eyes; his eyes shot me a momentary look that said 'I'm sorry'. I blinked rapidly, not even believing I'd seen it and I was met with a stern expression that assured me I hadn't, however my memories strongly assured me otherwise. It made no sense though, why would he be sorry? He's enjoying this, that's quite clear. If there's one thing that is.

"Oh, but Jacky." He was fully naked now, "this is so much more fun." Looks like my brief flash of compassionate Alex was gone. I should've suspected it. Nothing good ever stays; evil is simply a stronger force in life. It shouldn't be so, but it is.

"Alex-"

"Roll over." I knew what was going to happen now and there was no point in trying to resist it. I just had to let it happen and pray, just pray that it'd all be over soon, but no he'd make me suffer, he'd make it last as long as he could, he'd hold out, he'd torture me and he'd enjoy it. There was no question about that.

I followed his commands, reluctantly, but I was shit scared. I felt my sanity being swallowed by that very mattress. "Are you ready, Jacky?" I heard him ripping a condom packet and it was lovely to know he thought I was filthy enough to need protecting from. No, he was the filthy one here; he was filthy enough to do something like this.

"No." He chuckled manically. I wanted every bone in my bone to snap in two, splitters of bone marrow would infect my blood stream and my blood would clot and then maybe my heart would just give out. Wouldn't that be nice? I'd prefer that to this.

"You're so rebellious, Jacky." I felt the arms around my lowering as pulled himself closer to me. "I think that's why I like you so much." Well, I'll make a note to follow orders from now on- No. That's what he wanted wasn't it? Wait, he wanted entertainment? Fuck, this was all so confusing. Alex was confusing, Alex was messed up, Alex was a psychopath, but Alex was my Alex. I hated that, but it certainly didn't look like it was going to change anytime soon, anytime ever.

"3," This was it, the countdown. I already felt his tip hanging above my entrance in a way that made me want to hurl. This was sick, he was sick. "2," Goodbye virginity, goodbye life before Alex, fuck you and your parties Joe. If I ever saw that bastard again I was going to destroy his alcohol supply- If. My chances had downgraded from a when to an if. "1."

"Fuck-" 

It hurt like hell, but what was I expecting? He grinded against me ravenously, pumping in and out at an uneven and psychotic rhythm. In. Out. In. Out. How long left? Thoughts passed across my mind, but I couldn't quite grasp them. Everything was lost in this one decision. This sickening act, him inside of me. I wasn't ready, I wasn't ready at all. I'd never be ready again with a decision like this.

As he eventually lifted himself out of me after reaching an orgasm I didn't share, he let our eyes make contact and I swear I saw that human look again, that look that made me question everything, but before I could function it was gone.

"Night night, Jacky." And with that he was gone. I was alone now. I was left with me thoughts and after this, thoughts set on destroying ever cell that existed in these fleshy prison walls.

Show me the skyline and I'll show you decadence, a subtle reminder of hearts filled with loneliness.

-

Alex. Day Six - 22:42

I had made several attempts to converse with Jack after the uhm... 'Incident', however all my attempts remained fruitless as the boy sat there in a silent temper tantrum, his eyes shooting daggers through my spine. He was overreacting really- Okay, maybe I shouldn't have had sex with him if he didn't want to so much, but the guy's mental; sex is sex - a good thing. It was probably the whole virgin thing, but hey it's not exactly as if that mattered and I wouldn't put him down as the type to actually care about shit like that, but I guess he is. I couldn't exactly pinpoint as to where Jack's beliefs and trust lay, and it remained my one weakness; it wasn't like this before, I could read all of my previous victims perfectly, it was just Jack, and yet none of this deteriorated the fact that I never wanted to get rid of the guy.

When I walked past him room I couldn't even hear the sound of him breathing. With an ear pressed against the door, one would believe that it was an empty room, with no Jack Barakat falling apart inside. Maybe he held his breath as I walked past, maybe not even to spite me, but maybe because he was just that scared, I'd made him scared of me. Surely that had been the original intention, but things were so much different, so much more complicated now, because I didn't want him to be this scared of me; for once I wanted to talk to the guy, because the direct approach with someone of ample intelligence was so much more fun.

I wanted him to spill, I wanted to know everything about him, I wanted to know what made him tick and what would make him hate me and what would make him love me, because loved knowing how to toy with people's emotions like that. It probably wasn't the best of hobbies, but no one could pick who they were, well not really anyway. Everyone likes to think they can, but that's just how humans work, they feed off pride and excessive optimism; it makes me sick really.

I pushed the guilt off, it'd be fine. I shouldn't feel guilty at all - the guy was overreacting completely. That's what I thought, but the thought didn't seem to ever quite go away, no matter how hard I tried to dispel the haunting thought from my head, the more snugly it nested between the fabrics of my brain, leaving me with the sole option to give up. I didn't like giving up.

I had never liked giving up, because if you gave up, there was no chance of winning and nothing's better than winning, nothing at all could possibly be better than winning. Except maybe the enigma that is Jack, I don't like how unpredictable he is, yet it seems to be the only thing that continuously draws me back to him, and that's stupidly reckless. I'm getting far too emotional now, if I had managed to hold onto my emotional abstinence then maybe I wouldn't be so drawn into Jack, he'd be gone by now and I wouldn't feel myself caring about him. These emotions are all Jack's fault, which begged the question; was this his intention from the very start? No - he couldn't be that clever, I wouldn't like for him to be that clever. I like being the clever one, I like winning.

Maybe I'd ruined things with Jack and the boy would never trust me again. Maybe I'd broken the boy entirely and maybe he'd never speak to anyone again. Maybe Jack was just being a stubborn, arrogant, prick. I much preferred the latter, but I knew that was very unlikely to be the truth. Jack was so much more of a complex person than that, sure he had his imperfections, but for a normal guy he was rather fascinating, even to a mind like mine.

Jack was all too fascinating to be a normal victim to me; there was definitely something about the guy that I couldn't put my finger on, yet never quite take my mind off either. Jack was ensnaring me with his stupid brown eyes and I didn't like that one bit - I was the hunter not the hunted and I needed to enforce that upon him, but I know all too well how he'd react and my downfall was that I hated upsetting him, I hated it when those eyes were spoiled by tears.

Jack was rather perfect, with those beautiful brown eyes and crooked smile that never came out to shine anymore. I missed that side of Jack, I missed happy Jack- No, I needed happy Jack, and I was a selfish person, therefore I was going to get happy Jack, there was no question about that one. I just had to figure out how a person of hatred could turn into a person of joy. It was a rather baffling thought, which of course led for me to be all the more intrigued by it, because the things that most interested me were Jack and new ideas - combine the two and you have something that's right up my street.

I just didn't quite know if he'd even allow me to go about it, or go near him for that matter. I needed to regain his trust and I needed to regain it desperately. I missed the smile, the eyes, I missed him. God knows why he trusted someone like me in the first place, but I'm all too glad he did- Glad. I need to stop this, I need to break free of these emotional bonds, I need to get out, I need to get away. But Jack was the eye of the storm and I couldn't stop reeling myself in.

The problem, of course, was that I hadn't a clue in the field of making Jack Barakat happy and was rather unqualified in the matter. I would, of course, be more than eager to find out. Along with Jack and winning, I decided the pursuit of knowledge would be added to my list of favourite things, because well I liked it, I liked to be able to say that I know things.

I liked the gravity of it all.

-

Jack. Day Six - 23:01

Eleven o'clock.

It's far too late, but far too early. Nothing makes sense in these four prison walls anymore.

I had begun to count the hours down since it had happened, and since I'd last spoke a single word to the filthy bastard that is the incredibly handsome and unspeakably charming Alex Gaskarth. I shouldn't even think that; I really doubt his ego can take the extra boost. But really, I hate him - for real this time. He fucking raped me, there was nowhere else this friendship could go than down the shitter, but really he was a serial killer and I was a guy with no friends so our chances weren't exactly fruitful in the first place. Nothing was fruitful in my life any longer, so really what was I to expect? Rape. Rape was not what I was to expect, not at all. Even the word made me sick to my stomach, sending the contents of my practically empty digestive system flying across the room.

It had been twenty eight long hours since it'd happened, since a word left these infected lips. He'd been inside me, he'd infected me. I felt dirty, unclean and filthy; a plague, an infestation that needed to be dealt with. I just couldn't deal with myself, I was alone and gagged in an empty room. The only comfort I had was the light and a clock looming over me in the corner. I was glad he had left me with the ability to know the time at the very least.

Watching the second hand tick by and gradually counting the minutes kept insanity at bay, and other destructive thoughts pushed deeper far back into the most wretched corners of my mind. These corners however, slowly began to fill, the havoc and chaos picking away at the self-induced facade of selective dementia, until eventually the walls fell down and the thoughts fled in, hoards and hoards or them, armed with pitchforks and spears and javelins and god knows what else.

However, there were some thoughts, some thoughts I just couldn't keep away, even temporarily, and some thoughts that simply wouldn't remain locked up behind bars, thoughts that liked to wreak havoc and break free. Thoughts that I would have never even considered without being locked up in a room for days on end, thoughts that were within the reaches of insanity, thoughts about the gun he'd oh so conveniently left in the corner of room, thoughts about what I could do with that gun. My mind liked to scan through the possibilities, rather like window shopping, but all the more dangerous, all the more fun. All the more Alex influenced; I would have never even considered half of these things if I'd never met the guy, but here I was now, my eyes fixated on a weapon of mass destruction with a stupid grin plastered across my face.

Then something terrible happened. Things like that seemed to have made a habit of popping back up in my life every once in a while.

The door opened. With a click of the lock, a twist of the key and a final shove, followed by the heavy footsteps on creaking floorboards; the exact creaking floorboards of this very room.

I turned and glanced at the figure, I narrowed my eyes at it, and it, of course, was Alex.

"Hey Jacky," he smiled at me walking across the room to me. I twitched nervously as the sound of his footsteps grew louder; I didn't like to know that he was growing increasingly closer to my broken self. "How are you?"

I didn't know why he tried, he was clever and should have worked out by now that I wasn't going to answer, or maybe he was just trying to prove that he was more stubborn than me - he wasn't. I was going to prove the asshole wrong, I wondered if he even knew what that felt like, what it felt it like to be wrong, what it felt like to be inadequate, to be unclean, a broken shard of glass that sliced against everything it touched.

He didn't know, he wouldn't know, he would never know, because he's Alex and he's far too sure of himself. I loathe and both envy that trait equally, it's an odd mess, one even my own brain can't comprehend.

I watched from narrowed eyes as he sat down opposite me. He looked all too happy, all too friendly and I soon found myself shuffling back into the wall, further away from him and the psychotic mess he carried with him. He brought fear around his pockets like spare change, a firearm like his house keys and my sanity away like a hefty tip. He liked to play God and over the years he'd gotten far too good at it, but I didn't think he hated the right job description. Satan would fit him far more adequately, in my opinion.

"Please, don't be scared of me." I didn't like the puppy dog eyes, I didn't like his tone, I didn't like it one bit at all. "I'm sorry, I should have listened to you, Jacky." He looked genuinely sorry, but it was Alex and therefore there was the very simple fact that I couldn't trust him in the slightest. He was just acting, I assumed that great acting came with great lying, the latter of the talents he certainly did possess. Along with murder, and kidnap and dozens of other no doubtably illegal activities.

I should be much more scared of him, the amount of complacency I hated with being in the same room as someone as him was spine tingling and gut clenching. I felt stunned, bewitched by him even. All I knew was my inexplicit command to hate him and my inability to does so. It was a sick world.

"I'm really truly sorry, Jacky." Yeah for shit you are. "And I want to fix this, I'm just not quite sure how. Tell me how, please?" He was good, that was for certain. He was good enough for there to be a part of me that actually wanted to speak up now and answer his goddamn question and forgive the fucker so we could just get on as friends and maybe I'd fall back in love with him- no, that was a stupid idea, an idiotic, Alex induced idea and I, for one, wasn't going to give in, no matter how much I fucking wanted to.

I wanted to love him, I really did; I just wouldn't let myself, because things like this and of a much more grave nature could only become a regular appearance and that was something I wasn't going to let happen. I wasn't going to let him win, even if I wanted him to. Even if I was rooting for him, I wouldn't let him root for me.

"Please, Jacky. I care about you, I love you." He threw those words away like the skin on a banana, but it didn't prevent my heart from stopping in an instant. I just stared up at him with big empty eyes, I wanted him to mean it, and I wanted him to love me, because I think he was too perfect to put to waste.

"I mean it, Jacky baby." He could quite clearly read my expression and despite how every brain cell in my body screamed at me not to, screamed at me to run and run whilst I could, there was nothing to stop me falling, there only had to be somewhere there to catch me and it only had to be him. I was rooting for him and these roots were growing a tree, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't quite cut it down.

Something ticked in my brain, something clicked making the impossible possible, making the irrational rational and the unintentional far too intentional. And the words he should never hear slipped and found their way directly off my tongue.

"I love you too." The twenty eight hours were for nothing- no, they didn't mean anything; I was just stubborn that's all. I was far too keen to just accept Alex's apologies and fall in love with him and I hated that I just couldn't stop myself, because within one glance at those perfect brown eyes I was bewitched entirely.

Alex had an addictive aura, a bittersweet taste that wouldn't leave your tongue and left you with nothing more desirable than to say the words that would drive a stake straight through your heart.

"Thank you, Jacky." He pulled me against his chest, hugging me far too tightly. It was nice to have some human contact, but for the contact to come from a far too affectionate Alex was weird and stomach clenching; I was all too scared that he had other intentions entirely. "Do you trust me?" He was looking me in the eye again and I found it impossible to tell the truth and say no, it wasn't a good idea either, because he wanted to think he had won- okay, he practically had.

God, my sanity is truly gone by now. I should have given up on sanity a long time ago; maybe it would have made this whole ordeal easier. He cleared strayed far off of sanity's path years ago, so it'd make us even - almost. There was always the fact that he was a psychopathical genius.

"Yes, Alex." Saying his name was weirder; reminding myself of the fact that he was human was lung snapping. "I trust you."

I felt like I had just sold my soul, but of course Satan would have been kinder. Wait hadn't I previously appointed him as the new Satan? Yes, that would explain a few things. It's not like he was sprouting horns and a tail or anything though, was it? Well at least it didn't look like it and I most certainly hoped that wasn't the case, because if so I would have just physically sold my soul to the devil.

"Okay, you know what baby?" This might most definitely not be good and by that I mean I'm most likely deep in the shits right now. If this was another sex ploy I was in deep shit right now. He needed to get his head on straight; he needed to realise that not every was as devoid of emotion as he was. Okay maybe he liked being a sadistic skeleton, but I liked to smile, I liked to love, I liked to cry. He had none of that, and I'm rather glad of it, because emotions just complicate motives. His motives were all too morally insufficient, but overall rather clear.

"What?" The word stumbled out in a unorganised mess of mispronounced syllables and embarrassing voice cracks. He'd definitely brought out the eloquence in me - that was for sure.

"I'm going to undo the chains and unlock the door." I think my jaw snapped clean away from the rest of my face. "You can go freely around my house, but not outside. I don't want you outside, okay? Promise me you won't go outside?" I couldn't believe a word that fell from his lips.

"I promise." I could barely believe it - I was getting out of this fucking room. I just hoped the rest of his house was far less dreary than this room.

He pulled a key out of his back pocket and unlocked the handcuffs. He grabbed my hand and pulled my limp, crippled frame up from where it had been pushed against the wall for far too long.

I glanced down at my wrists and sure enough, they were battered from yanking on the cuffs furiously. It was a horrible mess, but a mess I had created nonetheless, leaving myself and myself alone to blame.

He unlocked the door, not letting go of my hand and dragged me out into the main part of the house.

"Jacky, welcome to my humble abode."

Humble was certainly an understatement - the place was massive.

And we'll all dance alone to the tune of your death, we'll love again, we'll laugh again, and it's better off this way.

-

Jack. Day Seven - 14:26

The events of last night had confused me entirely and I almost thought I had turned schizophrenic overnight when I woke up cuddled into Alex's side on the sofa in the main part of his house. By the main part I mean the liveable in part, the part that has furniture instead of chains and shackles, along with proper lighting and dear lord, running water.

Running water had been something I'd spent the past week without, and only now did it dawn on me as to how much I missed regular showers: spending hours under a stream of burning hot water and letting your thoughts take control, whilst belting out Disney songs and getting far too much shampoo in my eyes to avoid a possibility of blindness.

It occurred to me that I actually hadn't had a shower since I'd arrived here, which was pretty much a week by now, and I was beginning to feel pretty disgusting, but that didn't take away the fear I had of asking Alex to let me, of course.

The fact that he was allowing me to sleep curled up to him in a decent room was more than astounding- or maybe this was just a coincidence, maybe he'd shout at me, I was too scared to take a peek at his face, so I hadn't a clue if he was asleep or not, and I resorted to lying here like a sitting duck. Jack Baraquack. I made a pretty shit duck if I was honest; I haven't even got a beak. Beaks are essential.

"Jacky, I know you're awake." He whispered in a playful tone, and for once, when I say playful, I don't mean murderous playful, I mean actually playful. He actually sounded happy for once, which was a surprise in itself; his capacity to actually express any emotion was another one that shortly followed.

I didn't even think Alex and playful meant anything other than a mass genocide with extra gore and blood, but you know what? When it comes to Alex, I think I like to be surprised, especially now I'm into the incredibly optimistic habit of expecting the worst.

I groaned, rolling out from where I was nudged into his side and looked up into his eyes. His eyes were warm, his eyes were perfect and they prepared me for what he could possibly be about to say next, because I hadn't a clue at all. He could tell me to fuck off, get out, throw a string of insults at me, fuck he could even hit me, or even shoot me, or fuck-

"It's near enough half past two, in the afternoon!" He ran his fingers through my messed up bed hair; not a sight I particularly wanted him to see, but really, I hadn't an awful lot of choice in the matter. I didn't expect him to criticise me on my late awakening; my hair, my hygiene, my lack of personal space, my weight breaking his sofa maybe, but my lie in? This was becoming far too normal for my liking.

"Mmm.." I stretched out across the sofa, trying to hide my utter state of awe as I began to take in my surroundings. "I'm aware." He really was lying when he called this place 'humble', but really, I supposed it rather fitted, this house being just as humble as he was. Alex Gaskarth was just the epitome of modesty.

The room was practically made of marble; the shiny rock coated the walls, counter tops, coffee tables, you name it - I wouldn't be surprised if he was wearing marble underpants. A silver chandelier hung from the ceiling with horribly realistic looking artificial candles, or at least I hoped they were artificial, because I really didn't like the chance of this place being carelessly set alight. No, they had to be artificial; he would have accidentally shot them by now and burned the whole house down otherwise.

"You slept like you haven't slept in days," he chuckled, but I didn't, because really, it was true - I hadn't slept in days. I had barely gotten a wink of sleep in this place; I just didn't trust it, and I had a more than valid reason not to, and this valid reason was now cuddling up to me on his sofa. However, I this valid reason seemed to be causing me to fall in love with him, and if that wasn't troubling, then really I don't fucking know what is.

"I haven't." I pulled myself up, leaning my back against the sofa and pressing my feet against him. His eyes widened; was he really that innocent to human needs, did he really not comprehend that we needed sleep to stay alive, only with light, food and water - these were the bare minium to keep lungs pumping and hearts pumping, let alone keep my sanity, and he'd deprived me of pretty much all of them. It was typically Alex, because quite typically, he didn't quite grasp it. I wasn't sure whether to blame him or not, but a part of me almost felt guilty if I did.

Alex was so oblivious he was almost inhuman; he had this sort of separation from the rest of us, it was like he grew from the same sapling, but was now an entirely different plant. I wondered if he'd grow elsewhere from birth or if he'd gradually been tearing himself away from the rest of us as he grew up and slowly came to realise as to just what life had in store for him, what life had in store for everyone.

"You need sleep, Jacky." Oh, so he does get it. Fascinating, but I don't want to believe, I don't want to think he could possibly be doing this on purpose; he's Alex, he's my Alex. He's my Alex Gaskarth, my serial killer, my psychopath, my kidnapper, my monster under the bed, my valid reason; to not trust anyone, to be scared, to sleep with the nightlight on, to not judge books by their covers, and to stay alive.

"It's rather hard to sleep when you're chained to a concrete wall." I half snapped at him. I had originally intended to snap at him full pelt, show him what it felt like to be deprived, but I couldn't quite manage it, my voice softening almost immediately, because I was almost in love with Alex and I couldn't quite handle that either.

Being in love was weird and a concept I'd rather not dwell up, but I constantly found myself doing nothing but that; mainly because Alex was the only thing running through my head on a constant basis, and really thoughts like that just came with Alex. Alex brought questions like that with him, he opened up doors in my head I had forgotten even existed; he was clever, but that wasn't the reason now. The reason was that I wasn't clever; I wasn't clever enough to stop him.

"Oh." Was his only response, before we sat in silence for several minutes, my eyes fixated upon him, but my thoughts elsewhere entirely. I liked to wish myself away from situations as often as possible, because really nothing was awfully good about reality, about right now, about me, about this.

This was all so confusing; I didn't know why he hadn't killed me off already, because I was being much more difficult than any of the others would have been. I bet none of the others got into the position I was in now, I bet none of them even survived this long - I wanted to ask him, I wanted to be reassured I was special, but I didn't have the guts, I could never have the guts, and maybe I think that was why I was still alive, or maybe Alex liked to play games, maybe he liked my emotions and maybe he loved manipulating them. I shouldn't let him, but I couldn't help myself. I wasn't clever enough, I'd never been clever enough, because I'd drank the drugged beer, one drink and that was all.

I liked to think that Alex was a walking enigma, some sort of magnet that just attracted people to him and that this somehow wasn't my fault, but really, it very much was and there really wasn't anything I could do to remedy that.

Alex pulled me closer to him and put his arm around me, after what seemed like ten minutes had passed. I jumped at first, startled by his sudden show of affection and was worried that we were going to have a rerun of our incident from a few days ago. Thankfully, we weren't, because Alex wasn't stupid and Alex knew that actions like that weren't going to get him anywhere.

Maybe he just needed teaching; maybe he had forgotten what humans were like, humans that weren't so shit scared of him to show needs or emotions. So maybe I just had to tell him, teach him even. When I was little I quite fancied being a teacher, but this certainly wasn't what I had in mind; teaching a psychopath what it was like to be human was no kid's dream.

"I'm sorry."

I shivered at first, apologies were weird, and apologies weren't Alex. I looked at him with widened eyes and he grinned at me. "I meant it." But did he really? Fuck, was I going to be stupid; was I going to believe him? I hadn't a clue, I hadn't a fucking clue. I wanted to believe him, because it was easier to pretend that everything was okay, but I knew I really shouldn't, because trusting Alex was like signing your own death certificate.

I trusted him regardless.

Hello death row.

"Thank you." He grinned and leaned in, giving me a small peck on the cheek. I couldn't help but blush; I really liked it when Alex kissed me, despite how much it made my insides churn, it was good, it felt good, it felt real.

"I don't want to even move today." He groaned; this was something I was thankful for, because not moving meant no weapons, no rape, no psychopathy, nothing but us on this sofa together, and maybe then I could feel real. I could feel like Alex and I were just two normal guys that were in love, not a psychopath and his victim, both waiting far too hesitantly for one of them to snap and the inevitable murder to occur.

Murder being an inevitable factor was never a situation I would have dreamed of occurring, but really I wasn't quite that messed up to be dreaming of things like that, well at least not yet anyways, give me another week with Alex and we'll see- hey, I might even be asylum worthy by then.

I liked being with Alex, but I didn't, because the more I sat with him, the more aware I become of the inevitability of the murder, my murder. I was going to die someday, someday soon and only he knew then, and if that thought didn't frighten me, then I didn't know what else would.

Alex really should frighten me, but he doesn't really, well not anymore and that should be the fact that scares me, and still it doesn't, because I'm far too comfortable with Alex, I'm far too close to Alex, and maybe just maybe, I'm far too in love with him too. I never reckoned myself to be the hopeless romantic type though. I never reckoned myself to be kidnapped though either. I'm a bad judge of self-character.

"I don't want to move either." I grinned at him, leaning my head into the crook of his neck - thankfully, he didn't seem to mind, he seemed to be rather enjoying my a little bold advances actually, and that made me smile far much more than it would make any sane person. Any sane person would have at least tried to make a run for it by now, but I was actually rather content in my kidnapper's arms, watching his pistol sit on the table, vaguely pointed in my direction; I'd gotten far too used to guns recently, I'd even started to look at them like Alex did, as nothing more than just objects.

No, Jack - they're killing machines.

They kill people.

They could kill you.

Like Alex. But strangely enough, I'm not afraid of Alex either.

Alex grabbed the TV remote off the arm of the sofa and turned to me, "that's perfect, we can just sit here and watch a movie." I grinned at him. "Sound good?" This was all too normal, but I really didn't want to complain, not now, not all, because he could be point a gun at my skull or a remote at a TV and I knew which one I preferred.

Here's a hint: it's not the former.

"Yeah." I began to twiddle my thumbs, "yeah, it does."

This was all weird, simply because my brain took no hesitance in reminding me that Alex was in fact a psychopath, and I had just agreed to watch a movie with him, but whatever I was far from caring. You know what, maybe this wouldn't be as normal as I was expecting maybe he'd put on Saw or something like that and then decide we should act it out or something equally as psycho- Alex.

Suddenly, the TV cut into my thoughts; the news channel, bearing the words I'd never expected to hear. "Missing person, Jack Barakat-"

Fuck. I couldn't breathe.

Alex had slammed his finger down onto the off button as soon as the announcer had opened her mouth. Maybe I didn't blame him, maybe I did.

I didn't know how to react, I just sat staring hopelessly at the blank screen, almost willing the TV to come back on; I didn't know how to react, and quite frankly, I didn't think Alex did either. This would be a first, but despite my earlier musings, it wasn't one I wanted to encounter, not at all.

I looked at him through concerned eyes; his gaze was fixated onto the blank screen, for once his eye vacant and expressionless. That's when I began to panic, because his eyes were what saved me, his eyes were what brought me back, his eyes were what made me fall in love with him and now they're gone. I miss them, I miss the eyes.

"I'm sorry." I didn't know why I was apologising, but it just felt right - it felt like the only thing to do, the only thing I could do. I shouldn't be the one apologising, but my mouth could push out no other words, and this had to do, this did it some justice.

"I didn't need you to see that." His voice came out like a madman's; frantic and raspy to the point I felt like his vocal cords would snap entirely. "I didn't need you to think that they care more, that they love you more, that they need you more, because Jacky," he turned his ravenous gaze onto mine, "listen to me, Jacky - they fucking don't." I was rather scared, but you know what overpowered that? How scared I was for him. And that's what's seriously concerning- my whole life now is seriously concerning, so honestly I don't see what the fuss is anymore.

I pulled him closer to me; it was a mad idea, but everything was mad. I felt like I was in Wonderland, but with considerably more marble. "Shh... Lex. I know. I know you do." Lex? I had no idea where that had come from; the darkest reaches of mad probably, but it was fine. I was okay, I didn't mind as long as Alex was okay.

"No, Jacky." He was blubbering into my shoulder now - a human freak show, a wreck. "You could never know, you could never ever know how much I need you." He looked me dead in the eye, "this is wrong, I shouldn't have kept you locked up in that room ever, but I did this all just to ensure that i could keep you, because-" His voice cracked as he choked out a desperate sob. "I can't manage without you, Jacky. You make it all worth it - all the deaths, everything." Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. He couldn't just say that! Does he not even-?

I felt sick. "Alex, I love you too, but please I don't want- I can't be accountable for those deaths, they're on your hands, Alex. They always will be." It was harsh okay, but I couldn't put it any other way.

"Shut the fuck up, whore." He spat at me with filth and I instantly knew I had gone too far. I'd fucked everything up once again; this seemed to be one of my special talents.

"I- I- I-, Lex-" Within five short words I'd been reduced to a mess of panic and heavy breathing. A weight was pressed against my windpipe, a needle taking repeated jabs against my stomach. "I'm sorry!" I screamed. "P-P-Please don't please- don't rape me again, Alex. Please." I couldn't see through the tears that had gathered in my eyes, blurring my surroundings, but I really didn't care to see, I didn't want to see, I wanted to get away, away from Alex.

I wanted to get away from Alex.

That sentence alone made me want to throw up.

The fact that that sentence made me want to throw made me want to throw up.

"No, Jacky, no." He pulled me against his chest. "I would never again do anything- I promise, I promise on my insanity, I promise on the human skull in my fridge, I promise that'll never hurt you, Jacky. Never again." Human skull? That was more than concerning, but I-

And then he kissed me full on the lips and I kissed back.

He tasted weird, but good, and his tongue certainly knew what to do and how to move, but it was only when he pulled away that I recognised the taste. It was an unmistakeable taste, a taste I didn't want to know, yet a taste I couldn't quite ever forget.

He tasted of steel, aluminium; gunmetal.

Which then begged the question, how many times had a gun been pressed between his lips?

Because no matter what the doctors say, we're not okay, no one's okay at all.

-

Alex. Day Eight - 1:27

He's asleep, his eyelids flickering slightly as the moonlight streams in through the blinds in slightly wonkily shaped quadrilaterals. He looks beautiful with his stupidly long eyelashes and overly bushy eyebrows furrowing every so often as he dreamed, relishing sleep far too much to allow me to feel anywhere near comfortable and anything but guilty. Guilty that I had reduced his basis human rights to the level that sleeping on a sofa brought him this much joy. It was rather eye-opening and intriguing; human emotions always were fascinating, mainly because there's nothing quite like them, not in the whole universe, nothing. Humans are unique and bizarre, but I couldn't focus anymore, I couldn't be intrigued anymore, I couldn't be fascinated anymore - all I could be was guilty. Terribly, sickeningly, guilty.

Guilty is an emotion.

Guilty is far too human.

I can't feel guilty; I want to be clever- no, I need to be clever. I can't be human; there's a strict divide between prey and predator and there's a very well-engineered reason why, but with that divide broken? Humans hunting humans? Now that was madness; a real mess indeed, maybe even the highest form of insanity.

But I wasn't insane, I couldn't be insane - I was just clever, cleverer than all of them, they just weren't clever enough to recognise the gems of genius that lay wait within my brain matter.

If I wasn't clever, the world would have caught up to me by now and I'd be locked away with several life sentences, and I can't allow that to happen now. I couldn't imagine spending the rest of my life in a cell, away from my gun, away from my home, away from blood, guts and adrenaline, away from Jack-

No. Jack is irrelevant; that, in fact, is a lie, because Jack is the problem. Jack is the emotions, Jack's what's causing me to feel them; Jack's making me ill, Jack's making me sick, Jack's trying to kill me.

I have to kill him first. The hunter won't be hunted-

But, no, no - I can't-

No, I have to; he's just making me think I can't and that's precisely why I have to get rid of him. I don't know what it is, but he's truly brought out everything I despise in myself; everything hurts. Is this how everyone else feels all the time? Suddenly suicide victims don't seem quite so pathetic. The screams as they fade in and out of consciousness don't seem so ridiculous, the desperate scratches of fingernails against coffins don't seem so tireless, and I start to feel sick. It's not just last night's dinner, it's the guilt; it's always the guilt. Everything is the guilt now; I live in a guilty world full of guilty people with guilty actions.

I can't cope with this, I can't live in this world; the emotions are strong, the emotions are wild, the emotions are guilty, the emotions are selfish, the emotions are angry, the emotions are burning like a forest fire inside my heart- but I'm not going to kill myself.

My goal here is self-preservation, and in fact keeping Jack alive is practically suicidal; Jack's quite clearly the problem, the fire from his burning heart is far too quickly spreading into mine, and it hurts, it aches, it burns, it hurts like hell, I want to scream, but the smoke's already hit my lungs, choking my windpipe until I can no longer make a sound, just stupid, pathetic whimpers.

I need to put out the fire, I need to get rid of the source - I need to get rid of Jack, I need to kill him, I need to fix this Jack shaped problem, because Jack is horribly blatantly a toxic poison, the corruption, my Achilles' heel here. I just can't rectify that, just not yet, not now - I need to get rid of these stupid thoughts first, these stupid feelings, I need to detach myself from him, because you can't kill a man you're in love with - that's another stretch into insanity.

I've made myself sick with feeling- no, maybe, just perhaps, I've even made myself insane; horribly and brutally insane.

And then I did something rather stupid, but rather necessary and necessity truly is a troubling thing, because the overwhelming desire to want something- no, not just to want something, but to truly need it, is horribly chaotic and even less controllable. It's also human - this forest fire has necessity, this forest fire needs to devour me, maybe even without motive, without reason, but motive was another human thing, so maybe it had a motive, a terrible motive in fact - one that'd send shivers down my spine and shatter my bones if I lived long enough to find out what it was.

The medicine cabinet didn't even have a lock on it, so my mildly intoxicated fingers didn't have to fumble for ages to get it open. Intoxication was yet another human trait, but I'd missed the smell of alcohol and the burning sensation that came as it slithered down your throat, slowing claiming every cell in that godforsaken human body.

They just sat there in their masses. Little bottles and boxes all with labels and instructions. I knew a lot about drugs; they were a useful asset in kidnapping someone, but I'd never before even considered the effects they took upon the person, especially in overdose - I usually gave them too much, just to be sure, and I never cared what happened: if they passed out, it was an asset; if they began screaming the house down, then I'd thank the soundproof walls and gag them simply to save my own ears; if they choked violently then the job was already done, the fun revoked of me, the fun of watching them squirm, but I could still entertain myself with bodies, because bodies were always so much more eager to comply.

So when I was faced with hundreds of differently coloured little pills, not sure which one to choose, how many to take and what effect they'll have, I just chose the red ones.

Red was my favourite colour; it reminded me of blood, it reminded me of death, it reminded me of gore and everything unholy, everything inhumane, everything their little brains despised to be, and everything my clever, if not a little insane, one yearned for.

The bottle just sat in my hand for far too long; long enough to make me feel like an absolute coward.

I didn't know how many to take. I hadn't a clue - I usually just gave them pills until they stopped struggling, however many that took, and the side effects, the consequences were disregarded with a bat of an eyelash.

I took six pills.

Six was my lucky number: Jack was my seventh victim; Jack had ruined it all, I wanted to go back to that party and leave with someone else, someone less perfect, someone less important, less clever, with less of a raging forest fire.

I swallowed them together, all six at once and then my breathing began to increase; heavy and shaky, my heartbeats were far too irregular and my anxious listening for them only made them less frequent, or maybe my perspective of time was just askew - I wasn't sure. I wasn't at all sure anymore; in fact, I think maybe the pills had numbed my mind as well - I think they'd numbed it all, because I couldn't think, I could feel, but I couldn't feel anything, I couldn't think anything. It was just empty - a gaping hole where my heart was.

My head was pounding and I fell back against the kitchen cabinet; my head feeling more like a heavy boulder attached to a fragile spine than a skull containing my operating system. My eyelids flickered shut for a few seconds as it went black, and I woke up as my head collided with the cupboard. Crockery smashed against the marble flooring, but I didn't care, I couldn't even comprehend caring; all was gone, except panic.

Panic was there, panic was strong until the very end.

I panicked when I couldn't keep my eyes open; the blackness pulling me in, slowly at first and then all at once, tugging my life support at a sickening rate.

I panicked further when I couldn't remember being sick a few seconds after; the memories only flooding back to me as my eyes fixated upon the sickly yellow pureed mess polluting the marble flooring.

I panicked even further when I finally looked at the bottle and figured out exactly what I had taken - Mexiletine. 1200mgs of it, in fact.

I panicked as I began to wonder if any of me would even survive this at all, or whether I just dissolve into the marble flooring and become part of the house itself.

And then, I couldn't panic as I just collapsed against the marble, my skull probably shattering in the process, but if it got rid of these emotions then it'd be worth it.

I panicked when the last thought crossed my mind; a thought of Jack. A thought of when he'd find me, a thought of when the pills-

Nothing.

-

Jack. Day Eight - 8:56

I was delighted to see I had gotten up a relatively decent time today, my eyes flickering open and alert within instants, fixating upon the clock that hung on the wall of Alex's living room. It was still weird to wake up here; it was even weirder to constantly find myself waking up alive.

That delight however, soon turned into disappoint as I realised I'd woken up without Alex. In fact, Alex wasn't even in the room. I panicked as I came to realise that he might not even be in the house, but what was he doing? He was most likely taking advantage of the fact that he thought I wouldn't have woken up by now and that only lead my curiosity to question as to what exactly he was doing right now. Fuck, he could even be planning my death, getting the murder weapon, loading the gun, sharpening the knife and getting ready to pounce- no, I was just overreacting again.

No, no, no. No, in fact I was overreacting at all, and it's just sickening that the painful fact that Alex is in fact a murderer, a cold blooded murder, could escape my mind so easily, so regularly in fact.

This led me to soon find myself stumbling off the sofa, knocking over a vase and at first not bothering to pick up back up, but doing a double take and realising that this was Alex's house, Alex's vase, Alex's gun and picked the thing back up, placing it back down as precisely as I could, before pulling my shirt back on and wandering out into the corridor.

The whole house smelled weird in fact, it smelled vague, vaguely of nothingness, like nothing important was here; it didn't smell of Alex. It smelt of hospital, it smelt of disease, it smelt of hygiene and rubber gloves and anaesthetic and heart rate monitors and white.

I proceeded to get more than lost in Alex's colossal mess of a house, my panic and worry growing with every door I opened to find Alex not inside. I was rather surprised at how many doors he'd left unlocked, and even more shocked at the things that lay inside; I'd seen a room with a torture rack, an electric chair, a shooting range, a massive freezer that contained things I didn't want to remember, and what looked like, well, a sex dungeon.

Why he had left these doors open, I couldn't quite comprehend: if the police or someone walked in here, well, he'd be more than screwed, but then I remembered he was Alex and I bet the police weren't even aware that he existed, heck, maybe even the census data wasn't. Alex would have taken great pleasure and care in making himself invisible, because no one would question the witty guy with the cute smile. Alex really had everyone in the world working for him without them even realising it and if that wasn't terrifying then I don't know what is.

Alex isn't just a psychopath, he's a brilliant one, but the doors; the doors were an anomaly.

It was just oddly careless, despite his charm.

And careless was more than odd for Alex.

This caused me to suspect that something was seriously wrong. Had he run away because someone legal or the polar opposite was after him? And should I be legging it too? I doubted that the front door would be unlocked though and I didn't expect Alex, who kidnapped people, just to leave a spare key under a plant or something fucking stupid like that. But considering what I'd just seen, I really didn't know what to expect. There was nothing to be expected, nothing to be guessed when it came to Alex, not really, not ever, not at all.

"Escaping, are we, Jacky?" Quite the contrary in fact. He tapped me on the shoulder and I spun around to see the smirking face of Alex Gaskarth looking down at me. He didn't seem particularly disappointed, more of just amused. I didn't bother to answer, because he wouldn't believe me regardless, so I just decided to be risky, clever and strike him with a question he wouldn't want me to be able to ask. I was in a risky mood; I think maybe the hospital smell was messing with my head. The hospital smell confused me, and I couldn't quite settle it on the answer that Alex had been doing some cleaning, because really, did he look like the housewife type to you?

"Why are all the doors open?" He just looked at me, rather blankly, sort of scared, but not really, maybe empty was a better word, because Alex wasn't scared, he wasn't scared of anything, maybe not even death itself. "It just seems odd; I mean surely you would have a little more security-"

"Are you disappointed?" His face was engulfed by a devilish smirk. "Did my security measures not live up to your expectations? Was this all too," he paused for a moment, "boring? Yes, was this all too boring for you, Jacky? Should I, hmm..." he edged closer to me, putting his index finger underneath my chin and pulling my head up. His eyes worked on dissecting me remotely as he continued, "should I step up my game, Jacky? Would that suffice? Would you be entertained?" He let out a disturbing chuckle, and I felt a sickening shiver run through my veins, because Alex did scare me, maybe just more than I'd cared to remember.

"Not disappointed, just confused." I ignored his power games, trying to make me scared had become a rather boring game and that devilish glare had long lost its stigma. "I asked a question - why are all the doors open?"

He chuckled again; that chuckle unnerved me seriously and that was precisely why he kept using it, because I didn't even need to tell him - Alex just knew things like that. "Because I don't usually let people out of the room." His tone faded throughout the sentence. He looked like he'd been struck by something and quickly attempted to snap out of it, but it wasn't working - whatever it was, it was something he couldn't ignore, and that meant it surely had to be important, because nothing phased Alex, not really, not at all.

"Oh." I stopped trying to be clever when he did: it was Alex's job to win, and I'd finally learnt that by now, I think maybe that was what kept me alive, but it was Alex's decision, so really, I didn't have a clue why I was still breathing, I wondered if even Alex did. Maybe I was just an anomaly. 

It was then I noticed the dark circles under his eyes and the pale skin, the dead expression and the drowsy stumble. I narrowed my eyes; he usually looked pristine, immaculate, menacing, the devil in a suit and tie. This was the second concerning event today, if you count the hospital smell then the third.

"Are you okay?" He narrowed his eyes at me, probably assessing my appearance in an awfully similar manner. "You don't look okay-"

"I'm fine." He snapped back at me like an attention seeking white girl.

"You look a mess, like you haven't sleep, like you're hung over or something, but it's worse, fuck, you barely look alive-" The more I realised, the more I began to panic and I think from the look in his eyes, I think the more he did too, and I just stood there, looking at him, panicked, scared and overall terribly confused.

"I had something to drink last night, that's it. You wouldn't know how alcohol affects you, other than kidnapping that is, would you?" I bit my lip, memories of that first night coming back in their masses. He was terribly cruel, and he knew how to play with people's emotions to the extreme - I think that's what made him just so terribly dangerous.

"Oh." I let the silence linger for a little while. "You know you can always tell me- if there is anything, I mean."

He chuckled. "You don't believe me."

"Alex, I-"

"Hmm... Interesting." He grabbed me by the hand. "It's rather fascinating how you humans work really. You're fascinating, you are."

I shot him a confused, yet slightly concerned look. I didn't like it when he used the word 'humans' like he too didn't have a pulse, and a brain. I think it just strengthened the divide between us and I hated that so much.

"You blushed as soon as I touched your hand; I think that's interesting, because really I've fucked you, Jacky. Maybe you should stop being embarrassed around me-"

"No, you rap-"

"Gah, I don't care." He snapped at me. "Maybe you should just shut up and listen like a good little whore if you don't want it to happen again."

And with that, he was gone. He disappeared into the hospital smell, into the rooms with open doors and I was just left there, with nothing to cling to but the remainders of a sanity once lived.

I can't begin to let you know just what I'm feeling, and now the red ones make me fly and the blue ones help me fall. I think I'll blow my brains against the ceiling.

-

Jack. Day Nine - 12:43

Nothing could shake the feeling that when it came to Alex, something just wasn't right. He just wasn't himself anymore, he felt too human, too real, and part of me couldn't help but insist that this was entirely my fault. There was still a shred of rationality that persistently kept my sanity alive by reassuring me that it wasn't, but no matter how loud the rational voice shouted, the thoughts and suspicions wouldn't go away.

I hadn't discussed this with him of course, as I doubted that someone like him would take something like this very well at all. He'd probably scream, he'd freak the fuck out and quite possibly even kill me, because this was Alex and I needed to keep reminding myself that my murder was very much a possibility here, for my sanity at the very least.

It was just astounding how easy it was to forget that this was my kidnapper, the murderer, when it felt like this was just Alex, my Alex, whom I was certain I was more than slightly in love with.

And even as I sat across from him, shovelling badly cooked pasta into my mouth as excitedly as I could, I couldn't help but see that little flicker, that little glimpse, that little twitch, that just simply wasn't Alex. He was changing, and it scared me further, because I didn't know, and I even began to doubt that I would ever know what exactly was changing him. I didn't just want to know, in fact, I needed to, because really, I almost felt like I had to protect Alex, no matter what the cost. And if that wasn't toxic and dangerous, I don't know what was.

I think it scared me, because whatever could be fucking up Alex this bad, would definitely have more than a little impact on me.

I mean he'd cooked, for fuck's sake. In fact, he'd offered to cook, and it was nearly edible, which was practically celebrity chef world renowned cuisine for Alex. That of course, in no way diminished the fact the fact that it was more than a little unpleasant to eat.

"Jacky." I looked up frantically to be met with wide, unblinking eyes. His eyes looked horribly innocent and dangerously cute. This wasn't teddy bear cute, though, this was Alex cute, and Alex cute practically screamed, 'I know I murdered six people, but look at my sad little eyes, please forgive me,' and that fucking pout - don't even get me started.

"Y-Yes...?" I stuttered out; he was speaking with that tone of voice again, that tone of voice that particularly unnerved me, and he knew that it particularly unnerved me, which was precisely why he used it when he wanted to say something important, and wanted to patronise me about it - something he was annoyingly good at also.

"You're staring at me. Why are you staring at me? Please stop staring at me. It's unnerving." The words came out in a jumbled heap of barely coherent syllables and then I couldn't peal my eyes away from him. I was concerned; more than concerned in fact, he just quite simply hadn't been okay. Especially not since yesterday.

What was I saying? This guy was a murderer; of course he had never been and was not in any way whatsoever, okay. He'd killed people, for fuck's sake. I began to conclude that maybe, just maybe, I was going as crazy as he was. And that scared me, but then the wave of guilty hit me, and I was forced to be reminded of the fact that I was stupidly and painfully in love with the guy.

"Lex, I'm not staring at you." He raised his eyebrows in disbelief; he didn't believe me, but why should he? He was Alex, he was clever and he knew things about me that even I didn't know; he just knew how to read people, and generally not take any bullshit from anyone or anything ever. This was most certainly a skill I'd love to possess.

"Mmm..." Was the only response he could muster, and I was more of frustrated than concern by this point, which certainly didn't bode well for someone like me and someone like him.

"I'm not-" I began, but sure enough he did a good job of cutting me off.

"You sure about that? Because it sure as hell looks like it, Jacky." He sort of snapped at me, but he didn't look angry, he wasn't good at looking angry, he was good at being or looking anything really. He was just Alex. Alex was his own kind of person, if he could even be described as a person after everything he's done- no, I sound cruel and sociopathic; of course, he's still a person, he's just a person that messed up and is more than in needed of a little help.

"I'm just thinking, as I admire your face." He chuckled slightly, batting his eyelashes in a pompous manner. Thankfully he'd calmed down; flirting always seemed to do the trick. He was just Alex, when you ignored all of the murder and blood on his hands, and despite how dangerous that sounded, I just wanted it to be that way, I just wanted him to be my Alex, and for I to be his Jack and we could live happily ever after or some bullshit like that, but really, it could never work out like that, not ever, not really.

"Hmm... my face is quite admirable, if I were to be that narcissistic, you don't mind, though? Of course not, of course you don't- you wouldn't, I mean you're you - you're... Jack. You're Jacky-" He was speaking far too fast for me to not be worried. Was his whole body out of whack today, his heart not functioning properly or the like? I hadn't a clue, but really I needed to know. I really fucking needed to know.

"Alex!" He stopped, his eyes suddenly fixating on mine, "are you okay? Like really, even if it's nothing just tell me." I knew that getting the truth out of him was hardly an easy task, and that my attempt at the aforementioned would no doubtedly be fruitless, but that of course wouldn't prevent me from being just slightly disappointed when the inevitable occurred.

"Jacky, I'm fine." His voice came out in a rather blunt tone that reminded me of being hit by a small rock. He continued eating, his eyes stayed down for the remainder of the meal, and then I realised that I'd upset him. "You're the one that's not."

Those words hit like a large rock, a boulder, in fact. No, it was better described by being pelted with several boulders, maybe even being flung off a cliff into a rocky canon where I'd most certainly fall to my death, and was currently stuck with the sense of anti-gravity on the long way down, having left my stomach and the contents of it a top the aforementioned cliff, and was now just waiting in an uncomfortable limbo for my demise.

Upsetting Alex was an awfully foreign concept, yet one I'd been thrown into entirely over the past few days without any warning or instruction manual. It was like something really major had happened that I honestly just couldn't put my finger on, and now I was left with this mess of an Alex, and this mess of an Alex was quite frankly, well a mess, and was very easily going to get himself arrested, and I'd never see him again, which was beginning to become a thought I daren't let slip into my head, simply because I was working upon the logic that if I didn't believe in it then it simply didn't exist.

That logic of course, was very flawed, awfully flawed logic, but what else was I to do? Escape maybe? That was what I would have said a week ago, but Alex has changed my situation considerably, because a week ago, I wouldn't have dreamed of finding myself in a situation of feeling so much concern, so much affection, so much love, for someone like him.

-

Alex - 13:46

In afterthought, the Mexiletine hadn't been the best of decisions, and somehow I'd managed to live through a bad overdose without my heart spontaneously combusting, which I was rather thankful for. What I was even more thankful for, was that Jack hadn't found my passed out state, and that I'd managed to recovered substantially before I heard his footsteps coming down the corridor. Those footsteps had practically startled me enough to wake me from a coma, his presence unnerved me terribly, especially when it had the sentience to walk about the place freely. I'd have to put a stop to that.

I really didn't like the fact that he could do that. I really didn't like the fact he could have walked in and seen me like that; he wouldn't take it well, and even now he suspected something was up and he didn't even have the full picture, but of course, that in no way would diminish his persistence, but I had to do something to prevent a similar situation springing up and potentially working out with an outcome I wasn't quite so keen on. He was terribly concerned about me, and in fact, it's beginning to concern me and that's something that I really do not like.

Humans were too curious for their own good, Jack especially, but I think- in fact, I know, that's why I seem to like him so much. I'd just have to restrain him a little, he was forgetting his place, his was forgetting that I was in charge, and that I was the one that could end his life with a snap of my fingers, and he was my captive, my victim, my slave. I owned him; I could make him do anything.

Anything.

I smirked; this thought both fascinated me and turned me on, because Jack was mine, and surely that had some sort of sexual benefits, because if it didn't then this whole kidnapping business was rather half hearted, and not really worth it overall. I needed to make this worth it, everything had to be worth it.

I think maybe I'd chain him up again; he needed restraints, he needed teaching a lesson, for my sake, so that I kept this stupid little emotions in order and wouldn't end up nearly killing myself by taking an overdose of pills that really do fuck up your heartbeat. I think quite frankly, that Mexiletine was maybe just one of the worst things I could have taken.

Mexiletine is used for: Treating certain types of life-threatening irregular heartbeat. Mexiletine is an antiarrhythmic. It works by stabilizing the heart rhythm, which helps keep the heart from beating too fast or in an irregular rhythm.

Usual Adult Dose: 200 mg orally every 8 hours when rapid control of arrhythmia is not essential. As the severity of CNS side effects increases with total daily dose, the dose should not exceed 1200 mg/day.

I remember the one time I actually read the label, and fuck, I was lucky to have survived! But, that's because I've trained myself to survive - survival is my purpose, my goal. Jack is weak and has been far, far too lucky. He needs to learn who I am and what I could do to him, I just need to keep these fucking emotions at bay long enough to force the words from my mouth.

Smirking, I began to form a plan in my head; it'd all be so simple, and yet so ingenious, because, fuck, I was Alex Gaskarth, I knew what made people tick, especially people I knew well, especially people like Jack Barakat.

I just had to go out and get a few things first, but I'd need to restrain him first - god knows what he'd do know, fuck, maybe he'd even find the empty bottle of pills I'd left somewhere I just can't remember, and I certainly couldn't afford that happening.

So, I'd just need to fetch some old friends before I left. I'd have to go in that room again, and get those chains. I'm sure they missed his wrists by now.

-

Jack - 15:28

The door opened with an ear splitting creak, and I nearly jumped off the sofa he'd insisted on chaining me to before he left. I hadn't a clue why he'd done so; I knew I'd upset him earlier, but I didn't think I'd upset him this much, which in turn, led me to suspect a superior motive, because when it came to Alex, when was there not one?

It just upset me a little, because I thought we were getting somewhere, and now I felt like I was back to day one, just with comfier seating - something I certainly wasn't going to complain about, because if I did, there was no doubt that Alex would amuse himself with ridding me of it, maybe even going to the extreme of burning his own sofa just to spite me. He was that kind of guy.

Despite my irrational fears, there was no doubt it was Alex who had opened the door, and my logic was confirmed by the sound of his stupid little voice ringing through the room. It startled me a little at first, but I was just a little relieved at the sound of his voice booming through the room, that was of course, before I could recognise what he'd said.

"Scared you, did I, Jacky?" He had positioned himself so that I couldn't quite strain my neck into a position where I could see him from where I was chained up. He chuckled a little manically as I felt myself blush and I began to wonder if by some magic he could see my face. It was Alex, so I really wouldn't be just that surprised that if by some twisted miracle he could, because in the past nine days, I'd just given up on being at all surprised by anything.

You couldn't blame me though; hot guy at my brother's party had turned into my kidnapper and a serial killer. I was going through some confusing shit, okay?

"N-No... You- you didn't." I downright lied, and of course he knew I was lying, and his chuckle only existed to confirm my suspicions. I think maybe I couldn't take the hit to my ego if I admitted it, and Alex just loved to play with my emotions like that.

"Awh, Jacky. It's okay, baby." He strolled over to the front of the sofa and grinned at me with those big brown eyes. "I'm here now." I was more than aware of that, and despite the sugary sweetness of his voice, there was something off and I just couldn't place what, regardless I continued forward in the most logical path of conversation.

"Uhh... the chains?" I gestured with my head towards the metal binds that ensnared me, pushing my helpless form up against the sofa. It was more comfortable than the room I'd been previously locked in for several days prior, but the room didn't have Alex, watching me, smug and proud, and that was something that was painstakingly uncomfortable, and really wasn't doing any favours for my self-conscious tendencies.

"No, Jacky - not now. You've been out of them far, far too long." He ran two icy cold fingers down my cheekbones and along my jawline making me shiver under his frost touch. "I've been spoiling you." Fuck... He was so cold against my skin that had been complacently heated to room temperature, compared to his skin that hadn't lost the cold outside wind's prickle - something I hadn't experienced for nine days now.

I gulped, my mind suddenly beginning to wonder as to where a situation like this could end up. He simply chuckled, my fear exciting him, even turning him on slightly... or was I just imagining that? Part of me prayed I was, and part of me prayed I wasn't. Because I did love to see him turned on, and there was the fact that he was awfully attractive, but I couldn't help but remember just how this had all ended up last time. Even the thought sent shivers down my spine more powerful than anything two ice cold fingers could ever induce upon me.

"Alex, I thought you trusted me-" My words were cut off by a maniacal chuckle, and I began to wonder if suddenly I'd gotten the Alex I first met back, and then my mind began to wonder if we'd have to go through everything I'd passed through in this sickening ordeal one more time. Alex was horribly manipulative and I began to wonder if this was all just one big game to him - a power play maybe. Perhaps he just wanted to show me that there'd never be anything real between us, because he was too mad, too chaotic, too in control.

"That's where you're a hundred percent correct, Jacky." He stood half a metre away from me, looking down on me in a very unnerving manner. I was more than a little confused by his answer, and I felt an eyebrow rising slightly. Nothing added up, but really did it ever? I shrugged it off, deciding it'd be best not to dwell on things of this nature.

"I-I am...?" He smirked as words tumbled out of my mouth in a mess comparable to my attempts at cooking. I winced as memories from before hitting me like a tidal wave. "Y-You trust me?"

I sounded ridiculous, like a fourteen year old girl after losing her best friend and gaining another one within five seconds simply due to the sheer amount of gossip she had locked away in her poor excuse for a brain, ready to release at any moment to captive people and slowly reel them in.

"No, Jacky - I don't." I was horribly confused and my insides felt like they were spontaneously collapsing in on each other. "The word you used was 'trusted'. I trusted you, but I don't trust you. Not anymore." Fuck? The fuck? The fuck? The fuck? What had I done? Just what had I done? I wished he'd stop being stupidly cryptic and just tell me for once.

I couldn't breathe; my lungs had entirely lost their functionality and they just refused to engage in the transportation and consumption of oxygen.

I couldn't speak; the lack of oxygen, I think was to blame for this, my whole body panicking in order to restore my respiratory system and completely forgetting to send any kind of signal down to my throat.

"Why?" Was the only word appropriate and the only word I could manage to force through my dry lips. I sounded ridiculous and both of us knew it, but I was hardly in the mood to care.

"You know why, Jacky." I knew nothing, except that I had fucked up. I'd fucked up, I'd fucked up Alex. "You changed me, to save yourself-" Whoa, wait what? What was he suggesting? Alex was an enigma: I could just about never get my head around him, not ever, and especially not now.

"Alex-" I tried, but of course he wouldn't let me finish, he wouldn't even let me try.

"Shut it, whore!" Those words hit me like a tidal wave. He'd only ever spoke to me exactly like that once before and it was in the grimmest of situations. The aforementioned situation came back to my head all at once and everything hurt. My heart pounded and the only thing I could heart was the overly amplified sound of my heartbeat, leaving myself sat there, waiting, until it finally burst my eardrums and the pressure released rebounded and cut off my blood circulation entirely.

"You didn't want to die- fuck; I should kill you for that. You stupid, fucking, human. Humans are all the same; they're all selfish little creatures, but no, I won't kill you, because, oh dear Jacky, we can have much more fun than that, can't we?" He snarled at me, and within an instant I knew what was coming, I knew exactly what was coming - it was going to happen again, and I knew there was absolutely nothing I could do to stop someone like Alex when he was as determined as this, but, of course, that would never stop me from trying. I was persistent little creature, and a stupid one at that.

"You want to fuck me again?" I emphasised the word that would hurt the most in a desperate plea to provoke a vaguely human response from Alex. This of course wouldn't work and even as I desperately attempted it, I knew it all too well, but I couldn't stop myself; the human instincts to try and save myself, it was all natural to me, but so alien to Alex. That unnerved me, scared me even, the most out of everything.

He didn't say anything; he just looked at me through glaring eyes, before turning around momentarily. He turned around long enough to be suspicious of just what he was doing, but not quite long enough for me to do anything significant about my situation. Every action of his was just so perfectly planned and co-ordinated like that. He just knew how everything and everyone worked and one of his pastimes was to excessively flaunt that fact.

He turned back around with a stupid smirk and a roll of duct tape. He made no hesitation in placing a strip over my mouth. Fuck. What the hell was going on in that ridiculous brain of his? I'd kill to know- Bad joke. Far too relevant. Maybe this is what killing does to you? Heightens your senses with the constant rush of adrenaline, and makes you into this fear driven monster that'll do anything to avoid being caught. Manipulation, abuse, kidnap, robbery- nothing is considered taboo when you're a murderer.

"That'll shut your little whiny princess mouth up won't it?" He chuckled to himself and I was left to watch with wide and startled eyes as to what he did next, because the duct tape was only the start of this all.

\--RAPEY SMUT AHEAD, SO IF YOU DON'T FEEL COMFORTABLE READING PLEASE DON'T AND CONTINUE FROM THE NEXT PART IN BOLD--

I was left to the irritation of muffled, helpless and downright useless screams and pleads as he pulled my jeans down in a manner that suggested he was adept at this kind of thing. Of course I had to assume someone as attractive as him wasn't a virgin before I'd met him, so really this all wasn't that unexpected, he was just unnervingly good at this kind of thing. Good enough to make me consider enjoying it, even if I was anything but consenting.

For someone who this had happened to before, I felt horribly and painfully exposed with my bare legs, and his hand working at removing me of the last layer of modesty that was my boxers. Not that anything with Alex was in anyway modest at all. He'd done a horribly good job at ensuring that.

He grabbed my member with one hand and stroked it up and down with the other, making me let out a muffled moan from underneath the duct tape. He looked up at me with an awfully smug expression plastered across his face, "that's right, Jacky. Who's in charge?" I couldn't answer with the duct tape over my mouth and I couldn't even gesture with my hands bound in chains; I should have known that this was the fact he was going to be taking advantage of.

Manipulation didn't mean anything to murderers, of course. It was just so easy to forget who he was and what he'd done, and quite frankly it was unimaginable to have to go through the rest of your life like that; with such a heavy burden of guilt, and the worst label slapped right across your forehead for you to always be reminded of whenever you looked in the mirror.

"I'm sorry, Jacky." He squeezed tightly on my member and I shuddered against him. He just chuckled; the whole process entertaining him far too much for my sanity's liking. "But, you know what? I didn't hear you." Of course, you didn't - this fucking duct tape really did make sure of that, didn't it?

Fuck, the bastard! I hate, hate, hate him, more than I could ever express or know. Hate was a strong word, and the perfect word to use for someone like him, because only the strongest of words could sum up exactly what I felt towards someone as vile and repulsive as Alex Gaskarth.

He let go momentarily and spun around once more, rummaging around in a draw for something, and I just dared not to think what. I think the worst part was the fact that I was getting rather sexually frustrated just left here with a more than slightly uncomfortable cock out in the open; part of me suspected that this was precisely why he was taking his time in finding whatever he was so intent on searching for.

That part of me was right, but really, of course it was. Nine days with Alex had given me an awfully large insight into just how that stupid head of his seemed to work.

"Ah." He turned around, grinning like a madman. "Found it. This is especially important, Jacky. You want to know why? Yes, you do. Don't deny it; I can hear you begging to know - I'm in control." It was only then that I realised as to what he was holding, what he had been so intent on searching for - a cock ring. "You should remember that, Jacky." I regretted upsetting him earlier so much now, even though I'd hardly said anything, I was paying for it, most certainly paying for it with everything I had left to give him.

I squirmed, protesting as he put it on me, but that in no way deterred his attempts; in fact, I think it made him all the more eager, I think seeing me struggle, seeing me weak even turned him on. "I know you don't like it, Jacky, but that's precisely why it's got to happen. I'm teaching you a lesson here. You can cum when I say, and only when I say." He was uncomfortably possessive, but he had kidnapped me, so if he was possessive enough to do that then really I'm not sure what I could expect that could be in anyway considered 'out of the ordinary'.

I gulped: knowing Alex, he was going to torture me and he was going to enjoy it, and his conscious would live off the fact he thought he was making me enjoy it too. He began to run what felt like thousands of icy cold fingers down my aching member. Fuck. I let out a series of muffled moans from under the duct tape and with every moan he only went slower; the harder I got, the longer he left me. He wasn't just a tease, he was the guy with a torture chamber somewhere in this house, and I was simply glad that wasn't what I was being exposed to now.

"You're fucking easy, Jacky; it's boring." He snarled at me, dragging his nails down my length and I winced under the itching sensation that was burning away at me down below. He wasn't shy in making me scream, making me howl in pain, in fact, I think he'd enjoy it, and that was what Alex was like. Psychopathic. I knew that by now, anyway.

"Did that hurt you, Jacky? Did it?" His face was millimetres away from mine, his eyes menacing and for a moment I thought he was going to kiss me, but no, he wouldn't - I didn't deserve that, I didn't deserve him, and that was quite clear. I hadn't been good enough for him to even consider kissing me - the thought, in fact, was out of the question.

He ran his tongue down my length and then it happened; it jolted up, all at once and all too fast. And then he just smirked at me, playing with me, running his fingers along my length as and how he wanted. He loved it when he had proof, real physical proof that he was in control, that he was winning, and that he, he fucking owned me. He didn't just want me, he wanted a certificate display that he had me, just so he could hang in on the wall for me to look at every single day.

"Is that how this works, Jacky?" He squeezed far too tightly down on me, and I wanted to cum, I wanted to cum everywhere and all over his icy cold fingers, but I couldn't - not now, and not for a while; he'd made certain of that fact. "Do you want me to let you cum?" I nodded frantically, aching like hell. I needed to, but he didn't understand need, he didn't understand emotions, he didn't understand humans, not at all, not really. He knew everything, except the ins and outs of emotions, feelings, and human tendencies that he'd quite clearly abandoned years ago.

"Well, then," he smirked manically to himself, "you should be just as eager to fulfil your part of this deal. Suck me off." My eyes fell to his crotch. "And do it well; a poor excuse for an attempt will leave that on for the next few days, Jacky." That would be unimaginable, he couldn't- no, he could. He had the equipment and the capability. Of course he would, and of course he can. Nothing stops Alex Gaskarth, not even the police, especially not the police.

Fuck, he couldn't do that! But he would- The frustration, the aching - it'd kill me, and he'd enjoy it. He'd enjoy it more than I could ever imagine.

He made no hesitation in undoing his zipper and pulling his jeans down to the middle of his thighs. "Don't think this'll get you out of those chains - you can do this fine with just your mouth." And then he just pushed himself through my lips. I was stunned for a moment, just tasting him and then I was hit with the realisation of exactly what was happening here, and then I began to suck. Sucking wasn't the most pleasant of sensations, but if you considered what was going on down there, this was nothing.

My tongue swirled around his tip, and his fingers entwined themselves with the roots of my hair. I stroked him up and down with my tongue, feeling him hardening against the roof of my mouth. He made no attempt to accommodate himself inside me, he just moved and let me tied down, destroyed frame adjust the best it could, but no matter how much everything hurt, I had to keep going - I couldn't stop, not when I was just so nearly free.

"You're doing good, baby." He said with a supressed moan. He didn't want to let me know that this was affecting him to. He needed to hide from me that anything at all could impact him at all, because he thought I'd used it against him, because that's how his brain worked, because he would use it against me.

I spent the next few minutes dancing my tongue and lips around him; it was only when I bit down and accidentally at that, did he let out like a jet stream down my throat. I had no intention of swallowing, but apparently he did, forcing his member to the back of my throat to the point I felt like gagging, but I swallowed him all, because I had to. I had no other choice, anymore, he was in complete control and I hoped that he'd finally be satisfied with that.

After what felt like forever he pulled himself out of me, and grinned down at me, ruffling my hair in an oddly affectionate manner. "Well done, Jacky." Fuck yes, finally he'd relieve me of this fucking problem I had going on downstairs, which had only worsened with the whole ordeal of having him at the back of my throat. "You've been a good boy." That again sounded horribly possessive but I was too flustered to care.

\---SMUT ENDS---

He zipped up his jeans and I waited impatiently for him to remove the cock ring and have me in his hands again, because fuck! That felt so good. It felt so wrong, but so good, because Alex was twisted and he knew how to twist everything around him. Bending me to his will was easy, because I was scared of him after all, a part of me just didn't quite want to see it.

He pulled off the duct tape and removed the cock ring, but made it clearly he had no intentions of unchaining me. That was fine however, as long as my throbbing errection was dealt with promptly. The chains I could deal with, and had done for several days on end, but this problem downstairs would need resolving and resolving fast! Alex, of course, was moving as slowly as humanely possible, his actions in an utterly inhumane manner.

I think the worst part of it all was that the duct tape was nothing more than a power play. The soundproof walls made sure it served no other purpose than to make me feel inferior towards him, and I think he just wanted to remind me that I was the captive here. I, too had realised that things were getting far too normal recently, and of course someone so arrogant and proud as Alex simply couldn't let someone like me get the better of him. He needed reminding that he was in control; he needed to know that the victim was scared, because I don't think he could quite appreciate himself anymore, no matter what he did.

"Fuck!" Was the first word I uttered once I could speak again, and he simply chuckled, turning away. "Uhh... aren't you forgetting something?" He turned around and I gestured rather wildly towards the horribly apparent problem. Alex, however, just looked blankly at it as if it was nothing at all and wasn't restraining me in a great amount of uncomfortable frustration and pain, because Alex didn't know the meaning of those words, not really.

"Nah, Jacky." He looked at me through smug eyes. "I'm not. You're forgetting that I only promised to get rid of the ring; it's your job to sort that shit out." Hell had gotten a new king, apparently. Because, fuck! He couldn't do that. He was a manipulative, lying, cocky bastard and I made sure to hate him for all it was worth, despite the fact he didn't care, and that my cares were really worth nothing at all to him.

"My hands are chained to the sofa!" I screamed at him, despite the fact he was quite clearly more than aware of that fact, but I mean, who wasn't? Anyone with eyes could be more attentive to my situation than Alex was, but anyone with eyes wouldn't kidnap me, would they? In fact, anyone without eyes wouldn't kidnap me either, because I think the handicap of blindness would leave them rather incapable of discreetly smuggling someone out of their home and into god knows where.

"Precisely, you know what maybe I'll come back later and simply watch you." He winked at me before strolling off and leaving me with a problem that only he could fix. I just couldn't believe this. I felt like dying, I felt like killing him, and I think maybe that was what the madness was doing to me - corrupting me, twisting me, until I was a royal, unholy mess.

I was the captive here; he was in control, and the chains did a good job of reminding me of that painful fact.

-

Jack. Day Ten - 16:43

"Jacky." He whispered, his words far too soothing for my sanity's liking, but then again, I should really be used to it by now, because Alex basically contradicts anything under the sun that can be described using the term 'sane'. "I really am very, very sorry." He ran his fingers through my hair, gently twisting my head to face his. I just shook my head at him, because if there's one thing I know for certain, it's that he is not sorry, he's not sorry at all. He's Alex; he doesn't do sorry. I learned that on Day One.

"I love you." I do wish he'd stop trying, but Alex is far too egotistical to be anything but relentless in his actions, even if they are clearly quite hopeless. Alex is just a persistent, if not mildly psychopathic guy, who every so often reminds me that he can and one day will murder me. When my light goes out, no matter how soon or how late into my future, I know it'll be Alex that puts it out; he's going to make sure of that.

"No, no you don't." Those had been the only four words I'd said to him within the last twenty four hours, and I'd been sure to make sure they were the right ones, and judging by the panicked expression upon his face, they'd had the desired effect. I wanted him to realise that he wasn't just in control, and that I was a person too; not that he was the best example of a civilised person, but then again, neither was I.

"Jacky." He pleaded, his voice coming out in a pathetically desperate tone. He didn't care and I simply had the pleasure of watching him fake it, because Alex didn't have the ability to care; he was a psychopath - it wasn't his fault, well not entirely anyway, he was just born like that. Or at least that's what I'd gathered so far. Reading Alex was proving unfortunately and predictably difficult, but then again, I think it was the challenge that made it just about worthwhile.

"Don't try and sweet talk me into anything, Alex." I spat his name with the most verbal poison I could muster, expressing my true and quickly growing hatred for the guy as best as I could. "You know what you did." And he did. I hope the thought runs through his stupid head every single day, and I hope, I hope he shivers as the guilt runs after it in a prolonged and eternal wild goose chase.

"It was a mistake-"

"A mistake that happened twice?" Mistakes don't happen twice; even Alex knows that. It wasn't a mistake; we both know that. It just hurts to know that someone so fucking special as Alex could do something so cruel and barbaric as that - sometimes I have to remind myself who he really is: a cold blooded murder.

"Yeah, Jacky. I'm sorry." He looked awfully innocent, and part of me wanted to forgive him, but that part of me was weak, and that part of me wasn't the part of me that had kept me alive over the past ten days; the part that didn't believe him had. I had to survive, and that's all that mattered: survival was of the essence.

"Yeah, that's all well and good," his eyes lit up like those of a small child, because he thought I was going to forgive him, he thought he was going to win that easily, he thought I was going to let him, but no, things just don't happen like that anymore, and that's his fault entirely, because I forgave him before, but never again will I. "All well and good, besides the fact that mistakes don't happen twice."

"But Jacky, this one did-" He should really stop trying and admit that he's a filthy liar. The both of us know that this isn't going to get him anywhere, and yet he persists upon still trying; Alex is weird, sometimes- in fact, he's weird quite a lot.

"No it didn't. It happened twice, and therefore it isn't a mistake." I was firm, and maybe a little harsh, but with someone as manipulative as Alex, well, I had to be, unless I wanted every word that left my mouth to be slowly crushed under his presence. I had to let him know that I wasn't just a hurdle to be stepped over; I was important, perhaps even more important than him in the eyes of the law.

"Jacky, please let me make it up to you." I scoffed; he could try, but I doubted he'd get very far, because he was Alex and he just didn't know, in fact, he didn't have a fucking clue as to how humans and their stupid little empathetic brains worked.

"And how are you planning to do something like that?" I queried, actually rather intrigued as to how the fuck he was thinking of pulling something as impossible as this off. If he wasn't Alex, then maybe I would have doubted him more, but unfortunately this was Alex and therefore it wasn't entirely that impossible for him to pull the impossible off.

"I don't know..." His voice trailed off, and his eyes drifted away; he was thinking - oh shit. "But, I'll think of something, and I'll make it special." He untangled himself from where he was sat, practically on top of me on a bed in a random room I'd never been in. He insisted that I had to be comfortable, which okay, maybe I wasn't entirely complaining about if it meant he got rid of the chains.

"I love you, Jacky. Okay?" I didn't respond, and pulled away as he leant down to press a kiss to my forehead, and then, of course I should have known - cue the big sad eyes. I let him kiss me though; I didn't know why, I just think I didn't even care that much anymore.

"Cut it out. You know what you did." I snapped at him, my voice filled with everything but sympathy; my tune had changed entirely, from a lovesick sad song to a punk rock anthem of teenage angst and pent up anger regarding menial things and several school teachers.

"I'll make it up to you - I promise."

That promise was broken when I heard the sound of a key turning in the lock as he closed the door behind him, because Alex didn't trust me, Alex didn't love me, not at all and not ever.

-Flashback-

The tears didn't stop; they hadn't stopped for the last twenty minutes. My face was a tear stained wreck of stained red cheeks and droplets of salty liquid, and it was all because of him.

My whole body felt as if it was collapsing in upon itself, every bone, every muscle, every nerve shaking like crazy, only one thought pulsating throughout every cell - Alex Gaskarth is a liar.

He'd left me here for nearly an hour now, and in no way had my situation improved in anyway whatsoever, but at the very least he hadn't come in to watch me suffer, yet. I hope that would make him happy; seeing the tears run down my cheeks, seeing my body squirm in pain, seeing the glare I shot him the one time I managed to muster up the strength to glance up at him. I hoped it all made him happy; I hoped he was happy because he caused this all. There was no way around that fact, no way at all, and no matter how he tried to weasel his arrogant little head out of it, it simply wasn't adequate - it was his fault and his fault entirely.

"Enjoying yourself? Are you, Jacky?" Looks like I spoke too soon. I listened to the sound of footsteps on marble as he walked over to stand in front of me. "Little disobedient whores aren't supposed to be enjoying themselves. Maybe I'll have to spice things up a little." He put one icy cold finger beneath my chin, and pulled my head up to make eye contact with his. It simply hurt to know just how much he liked to be in control; he was utterly psychopathic and if that wasn't disturbing enough, he had disturbing and somewhat provocative tendencies.

"I wasn't disobedient." I choked out between tears and embarrassing voice cracks, however I wondered if I could ever count anything else as embarrassing ever again, seeing as I was now sat here in barely any clothing, struggling not to pass out from sheer sexual frustration. He didn't even try to make his downwards glances discreet; he liked to see me turned on, and he wasn't ashamed for that fact to be well known. "I did everything you asked, you lied-" He wouldn't even let me finish my sentence; that's the amount of control he needed to have to keep his schizoidic tendencies satisfied.

"Little whores like you should learn to keep their mouths shut, you know?" He ran a finger across my lips, stopping at the middle and pressing the tip of his finger to them in a shush sign. I felt like a small child, helpless and powerless, and it hurt even more when I realised that this was no mistake; this was exactly how he wanted me to feel, because I was no use to him within the grasps of sanity, of course. "Do I need to teach you another lesson-?"

"Please-" My words were cut off by the sobs that came out all at once, and then without any agreement from me, tears were streaming down my cheeks. He just stared, mouth agape as if he'd never seen real human tears before. He caught them half way down my cheeks with his fingertips, and looked back up at me with those big sad eyes again. I wondered what the fuck he was playing at this time, I was growing rather tired of these fucking sadistic ploys to get me to trust him and then instantly shatter that trust. I think he liked the look in my eyes, I think he liked the sadness; I think he liked the pain.

"Jacky- W-Why are you crying?" He almost struggled to get the words out, stuttering over the first few syllables; this was actually beginning to become somewhat hilarious to watch, because he really was a pathetic being to think he could just lie and manipulate his way through life, because so enough it'd stop working, and that soon enough turned out to be now.

"Why do you think?" I spat at him with all the venom I could muster. He just looked at me rather blankly, and I began to consider whether this was one of his tricks again, but I ended up explaining myself to him, regardless of what his motives behind it could possibly be. "You raped me, again. And now, now you leave me like this!" I gestured downwards, towards the rather apparent problem. "Do you even know how much it damn well hurts?" My voice broke as I raised it in desperation; I just couldn't even express as to how much I hated him - he wasn't even human, well not anymore anyway. He was a monster.

He wouldn't stop staring to the point it was beginning to creep me out; those two big brown, inquisitive eyes open mine and never leaving. "I didn't mean to hurt you." Lies. Lies. Lies. Alex was horribly good at lying.

"Yeah, of course you didn't." I snapped at him, the sarcasm being the arrow, and my words the bow. The shot was fired; I just hope he took the blow.

"Jacky, please I didn't. It was turning me on, so I thought it was turning you on too." I almost scoffed at his ridiculously excuse for an apology. Isn't that what all assaulters say? Isn't that the same lie you here every time? Yes, yes it is. Really now, I'm almost disappointed; I would have thought Alex would have had just a tad more originality, but you never know, do you?

"It was only turning you on because you have a fucking sadistic and rather disgusting god complex." I fired the words straight at him, with very little regard for consequence.

"I'm sorry - look I'll get you untied and into somewhere more comfortable. There are loads of rooms in this house, and I could take care of that for you-"

"I can sort it out for myself, thank you very much."

-Flashback Ends-

Jack. 17:12

I almost found myself dreading the click of that door being unlocked and the use of his stupid pet name for me that would shortly follow, and then, I'd finally be introduced to this devious forgiveness plan of his, which would most likely only manage to fuck things up even further, and I knew this far too well, because this was how it happened this time, and only then did I realise that Alex did really lack originality, and much more so than I'd originally thought. Wasn't that just intriguing?

Alex just didn't seem to get it; humans, and our emotions were foreign to him. It was like he'd barely even been exposed to human society, but then again, there was his exceptional intelligence and his ability to successfully murder and kidnap six people without any police suspicion or investigation. Alex was just confusing; Alex wasn't like anyone I'd ever met before, in both good and bad ways, believe it or not.

It was nice to have a bit of originality, or so I thought.

"Jacky." The lock turned, sending a shiver down my spine. Fuck. I shuffled back along the bed to the wall, distancing myself from Alex as much as possible. "I've got your surprise." Shit. I was expecting the worst; I was expecting torture, more of what had happened a day ago, chains, or something equally taboo that of course he'd take far too much pleasure in, but when the door opened and I saw what was in his arms, it was quite possibly the thing I'd been least expecting.

In his hands was a laptop. Just a normal laptop, no consequences or side effects or anything else, it was just a laptop; a new laptop that I presumed was mine. Had he actually gone mad?

He placed it down on the bed, turning it on and crawling on beside it. "Do you like it?" I wasn't quite sure what to think. Nothing made sense, which of course, made me initially suspicious towards Alex's intentions, because nothing, nothing at all was ever simple with him. He patted the bed next to him and in front of the now booting up laptop, gesturing for me to come down and join him. I wasn't exactly that keen upon shuffling down on a bed near to someone like him, especially with the fact that this was a bed.

"Jacky?" He looked at me with those wide glassy eyes again, and despite the fact that I was reluctant to shuffle down from where I was safely situated with my back pressed against the wall, I swallowed my gut instinct and shuffled down to where he was sat, mainly because I had come to be just a little scared of him, especially now I hadn't a clue as to what the fuck he was planning to do now, and believe me, Alex was always at his worst when his actions and true intent remained hidden.

I watched as the laptop started up, and began to realise just how much I'd missed my own laptop back at home, which in turn then led to my suspicion that Alex had sensed that somehow, and this gift was something more than simply out of the kindness of his own heart. I began to even wonder if he had a heart, well I knew that blood was pumped throughout his veins, but a metaphorical heart, a heart in the sense that humans have one. Emotions. They were a weird concept; a particular concept that flew straight past Alex, and one that I still had to entirely get my head around. Human emotions are just so powerful, like, fuck!

"Why did you get me this?" I asked him. It was a genuine question, because I genuinely had no idea whatsoever. I wanted to know, desperately in fact, I just came to very much doubt that he'd let me know his true intent, because this was Alex, after all - I wasn't stupid enough to not have a clue as to what went on in that dysfunctional mind of his.

"Do you not like it?" He glared at me through suddenly angery eyes, and I felt myself panicking instantly, and I was fighting the urge to shuffle back and as far away from Alex as I could possibly manage to get, but I doubted that he'd approve of that idea very much.

"No, I'm just confused." I replied, hoping he wouldn't quite pick up upon my true and not very well hidden emotions.

"Oh."

"I thought you would have meant more of what had happened before-" I began, but I soon found myself interrupted by another useless and meaningful attempt at self-defence upon his part. Alex was awfully pathetic at times.

"Jacky, I would never!" I almost laughed aloud, but I stopped myself with the sudden rush of sanity like a litre of blood flowing to my head.

"Twice." I reminded him, hating how often I found myself almost required to do this in order to keep his head on the right way, "twice." He did look awfully disappointed though, which did make me feel more than a little guilty. I think maybe, he was just a little bit sorry, only if he was just a little, but I think it was the thought that mattered after all.

"Honestly, the second time at least, I just got so pumped up- shit. I didn't mean to hurt you." He looked me in the eyes, "and now I've messed things up and god-" He was a wreck and I didn't know what to do, what to say, how to help, fuck- Alex was important, I couldn't deny that, out of all things.

"Alex, it's okay." I placed an arm around his shoulders- god, what was I doing? What was I saying? What the bloody hell could possibly be running through my mind right now, I just fucking didn't have a clue - everything was a just a mess, but when was it not? Really, I should be used to this kind of shit by now.

"It isn't." He simply replied, his gaze away from mine as his tone devoid of all emotion in a terribly 'Alex' way.

"No, Alex." I inhaled far too much air at once and nearly choked on it. "I know what you did was horrible and unacceptable, but I want to try to make this better-" What, what was I even saying? Fuck, I didn't know at all, it just kind of felt, I don't know... right? No, it couldn't, but apparently it could, because fuck, it was, and it was weird as heck. It just didn't fit, nothing seemed to fit anymore in this insanity breached world and I think that was something I'd just have to suck up and get used to.

"You're going to forgive me?" His eyes lit up in a manner that reminded me of a small child. Fuck, was I? I didn't even know.

"Not exactly, because I don't think I can, but I'm going to try and make an effort to fix things, but only if you do too." I looked him sternly in the eye. "Are you going to try?" It only mattered if he would try, because if he didn't everything just would be shit, nothing would matter and we'd know. He just had to try, he just had to.

"Yeah, Jacky. I'm going to try." He pressed his lips against mine and I let him. It wasn't anything significant, just a short chaste kiss, but I think it was the most important kiss we've ever shared, because I think that just maybe, it was the only kiss that really meant something for both of us.

-

"This laptop?" He stopped snuggling me excessively to listen to what I was saying. "Is it really mine, I mean like internet and shit... you're going to let me use that?" I still couldn't quite wrap my head around the concept of Alex simply handing me this amount of freedom - it just was weird and horribly un-Alex-like.

"I'll be looking at your history, but yeah." He grinned at me, and quite frankly I wasn't sure if I quite believed it, but I was going to take it as it came. If he was going to say I'd have internet, then fuck it, I'd have internet.

"There'll be rules, won't there?" I didn't even need to ask to know his answer, because Alex was one hell of a control freak - that was for certain.

He nodded, "yeah. But these aren't to punish you; these are for both of our own good, okay?" I sort of didn't know if I did exactly believe him, but I just took it as it came, not at all caring that much for later consequences, I just wanted, I just wanted this tiny little stretch of freedom, even if it would only last a day, an hour, a minute, or fuck, even a second. That tiny proportion of time would matter, because in that proportion of time I could just wash this all away and pretend that I was free again, and that someone like Alex simply wasn't an issue in a life as oddly simple as mine.

"Yeah, I understand." I nodded, just a little bit too eager to get online again. I didn't even know what I'd do. Maybe I'd just browse YouTube endlessly or something else utterly menial like that. It didn't even matter just how menial it was, it just mattered that it was freedom and in that one single moment, nothing could change, because really, I'd missed freedom and I'd missed it one hell of a lot.

"Good." He grinned at me, pressing a kiss to my forehead. "Don't go on Facebook or anything like that, because I don't want you talking to people you knew before." I was disappointed, but what he was saying made sense. "It'll be suspicious and messy. The police can trace internet signals, so make sure when you use this computer," he looked me directly in the eye, "your name isn't Jack Barakat, you aren't even Jacky. Use a different but consistent identity, be someone else."

I nodded, slowly taking in every word he uttered in my direction and letting it slowly imprint itself upon my memory, because for once, this was important, and not even vaguely, this was truly important at that. "I understand." I smiled at him; showing some enthusiasm was never a bad sign.

"I don't want you looking at porn, unless it's with me." He winked at me, and I couldn't help but let my cheeks flush a bright scarlet as I came to the realisation that he probably wasn't even joking, because fuck this was Alex, and I would presume that someone like him would definitely like his porn. "And basically don't do anything stupid or that'll get either of us exposed, other than that you're free to play online Flappy Bird or whatever the hell you want to."

"Thank you, Alex." I whispered into his shoulder as I embraced him in a close hug, making an extra effort to hold him extra tightly, because I wanted to show him, I wanted to let him know that this mattered, and most of all that we mattered.

"No, thank you, Jacky." I raised my eyebrows; confused regarding the intent of his statement, but then again, Alex was good at that - being a cryptic little shit and other irritating like things like that.

"What for?" I couldn't help but ask, because curiosity would always get the better of me, and that was for certain. I just don't think I was at all suspecting the answer I would receive.

"Being you."

-

Alex. Day Eleven - 8:45

I need to do something with these thoughts; they've become the monsters littering my head, they've too grown up from hiding under my bed, and like me, they've decided upon an entirely more efficient strategy in which to hunt their prey. So really, the monsters and I are rather like. They growl and they snarl and they kill and they destroy and they think and they know everything you never wanted anyone else to know. So really, the monsters and I hate one another.

These thoughts are all of Jack, and what I could do to him, and what I won't ever do to him - the boundary between these two seems to have disappeared by now entirely, but they know this, they know too much, they know my weakness and they're going to hurt him. They're going to tear his fragile, weak little body limb from fucking limb, simply because I couldn't. The monsters have won.

I needed to get away from the monsters, I needed to run like a coward with flying colours and a flashing sign, but survival is more important than pride. The monsters' downfall is that they care for both. But what's the point in pride when you have no one to please?

So, what did I do to escape them? I got a job. Business, and coffee mornings, and watercooler romances are most certainly not my kind of thing. The only type of business I'm interested in is bloody violent business, but everyone knows all CEOs are sociopaths, which therefore makes it simple for me to climb up the business ladder. And who knows, more people to control and bend to my will wouldn't exactly be a bad idea would it?

But what's important is that I'm within the deepest and most profound depths of strict suit and tie sanity. The monsters can't get me there; because they're scared... they're scared of people that don't believe in them. They're selfish creatures, but selfish with a reason, because if no one believes in them, they cease to exist. But, I have to, or else they'll hurt me, as I say, they're already firmly lodged between my grey brain matter.

There's just the fact that I hate ties. Wearing them, and blazers - I hate those too. Suits in general really. I hate order and system, I just like death, and violence and... Mexiletine, apparently. I wouldn't call it an addiction - I'd call it a prescription. Two a day keeps the monsters away. They help, they really do. I think it's toxic to monsters in fact, because the more I take, the more they seem to go away, the more everything seems to go away in fact, but all that matters here is the monsters, and keeping them far, far, far away. And keeping Jack and I safe, and alive.

The mexiletine capsules are red like blood and they taste disgusting but the aftermath, and the feeling when your heart unevens and almost disconnects from your respiratory system is to die for. It's not heavenly, and it's not quite hell, it's just purgatory. It's a feeling of purgatory that I'm addicted to, and isn't that odd? Purgatory seems to be where the monsters can't go; they're monsters of hell, they can break the gates of heaven, but they could never squeeze into the little wretched hole people so lovingly name Purgatory.

People make addiction out as this big, scary life ruiner, but really addiction is a passion, and quite possibly one of the strongest driving forces in the human head. Addiction is a truly compulsory form of necessity. The addiction is what keeps the monsters away, because they're just monsters, they know no addiction, and what they don't know scares them just as much as their roars and growls scare me; they never stop roaring and growling, not anymore anyway, not even the mexiletine keeps them away in the darkened silence of the early morning hours - they thrive at night, that's the only time they could come out when I was a little kid, but now, they're everywhere, but darkness still remains their strong point and their home. That'll never change until someone anchors the sun permanently into the sky all night long.

Addiction is the driving force behind my life, behind everyone's life, because it keeps the monsters away. The people that say they don't believe in monsters are just addicted to that fact, and that's precisely what keeps them away. Addiction is everything strong, everything powerful and is worth fearing, but it's the monsters that plant that initial fear in your mind, because it's not just a fear shared, it's their one and only bane.

Jack's full of addiction, and that's why the monsters can only get to him through someone just quite as weak and unaddicted as me. Jack's alive, because he's cleverer than he looks, he's cleverer than to listen to school teachers, prime ministers and church preachers; Jack listens to intelligence, Jack listens to survival instinct, and Jack listen to addiction only. Jack's addicted to me, video games, chicken drumsticks, porn, and optimism. I know this: they tell me, they taunt me, they tell me just how strong he is and just how weak I am. They tell me that he should be the one killing me, but I know who I am. I'm Alex Gaskarth, and they're wrong.

Jack should have escaped, but he hasn't... because of me, and that's truly very flattering, if not a little concerning, because he's closest to the monsters here, and I really don't want them to get him. They'll twist us against one another, and knowing Jack's safe and elsewhere could be better than him being at my side and constantly in danger, even if he is the only thing that's keeping me safe.

He's just awfully sensitive regarding which way I repay that aforementioned flattery. I think the laptop was a good call though, it gives him that sense of freedom and that gratitude that'll ensure he never leaves, even with the door wide open. I'm just awfully clever like that. Not to be narcisstic, but I am. The monsters don't think so, the monsters think I'm weak, but I like to know, I like to watch them be wrong. I know in the sunlight that they're wrong, but as the night darkens, I suddenly become not so sure.

The optimism, however, he doesn't give up; he doesn't give up on himself, me or anything. He'll never let the monsters take him, and I think that's why they're just quite so scared of him, addictions aside; he's stronger than all of them, combined. He has this sort of inner beacon of hope that I'm striving for, because it's not passion, it's not addiction, it's not stimulation... it's Jack Barakat. And Jack is the strongest force of them all, because Jack's human, Jack's real, and Jack cares. Jack possesses an extremely developed degree of emotion, even after what I've put him through. Jack still has a grain of goodness inside him in a society such as this one, and that's what the monsters truly fear, because they're still true to their roots; they're creatures of darkness, and Jack is a beacon of light.

He'll destroy them, he'll destroy them all.

One, Two, Three, Four, Five, and Six weren't anywhere near as strong as Jack - they were all borderline insane by now. Jack is Seven and he's still alive, but I think maybe, just perhaps that I'm okay with that, not just for my own selfish survival purposes, but because, I think maybe, I'm starting to get rather awfully attached to Jack; he's just mesmerising - his light shines so bright, and it's not blinding, it's... rather beautiful, in fact.

My addictions, yes, I know you're eager to know; they can hear me, but they already know, they knew from the day I was born, because they've always been under my bed, and I've always believed in them. I left the womb with monsters tugging on my umbilical chord.

My addictions are: Mexiletine as we've already covered, murder, insanity, porn, and.... Jack. I'm addicted to his light, his life force, his emotions and the way the light reflects on his face. It's all just beautiful, crazy and yet sickening. But he's safe, he's light, he's hope, he's all that's good in this world, and he keeps the monsters away, even if it's just for brief moments at a time, these moments are precious, shining bright like beacons, and worth more than any others.

But, it's lust, not love; I'm far too insane for love. But lust is very much within my grasps. Lust is where the monsters crawl, and love is where the angels cackle.

I think, I'm in lust with Jack-

No, I think I should up my prescription to three a day, and pop that stupid heart right out of this fucking body. But that's what the monsters want, but maybe they're right, maybe they're not monsters after all, maybe they're here to warn me of the dangers that Jack Barakat holds.

Maybe they're not monsters at all, maybe they're just angels, living without their halos.

-

The tie's a noose around my own neck; I can't breathe. I thinking I'm dying, but it's just the side effects of the mexiletine. I've memorised them all by now, and I know when I should be mildly concerned regarding my state of mortality, but now, I'm fine. This is normal- well, not exactly normal, but I'm used to this. The monsters are at bay, the tie's too tight for them, and I've dosed up on far too much mexiletine just to be sure. My body can cope, I can cope.

The world of business however, I'm not sure about. This tie will kill me before the mexiletine does. The monsters are out of the question- but, I can't help thinking that maybe they are angels. The angels don't want me to get hurt, the angels are here to protect me from the dangers of the world, and they're only angry at the world, because I've failed atrociously.

Do the angels scream when the dagger goes through the back, when the bullet fires through the windpipe, when their blood becomes the last sight they see, when the last breath is poisoned, and when they finally die? Do they angels scream when I kill, or do they want me to? Do they angels want me to kill? Are these bad men, who've been chosen by the angels themselves, am I meant to do this? Do the angels want me to-

Do the angels want me to kill Jack?

But I don't want to. Did they pick him out or did I? Jack doesn't seem like a bad man, he just seems like a light too bright. Maybe he's the wrong kind of bright, maybe he hurts the angel's eyes, or maybe they just want him to know, that they're here too, because Jack doesn't believe in them. Jack doesn't believe in angels, but I know, we know, he's wrong.

-

I have to leave in approximately five minutes - four and forty nine seconds. I just haven't told Jack about this job yet, mainly because I'm not entirely sure as to what the hell he could possibly think, I'm just sure that he probably won't approve. And then again, there's the whole idea of leaving him here for the entire duration of my newfound nine to five - eight hours. That's eight hours with the angels away from him, eight hours for him to be safe as I think over this whole ordeal - do they want me to kill him? And more importantly, should I?

I don't think he'll take the idea of being chained up very well, seeing as what happened last time had left rather permanent mental scarring on him. So I think I'm just going to have to trust him; I think the laptop will prove as a sufficient distraction. I just don't want him to escape, I don't want the angels to be angry, because now I know, now I know they're my friends, and that they angels and I, we were joined from birth and we're alive. Because this isn't purgatory, it's heaven, it's just more corrupted than I imagined. Maybe there isn't even a purgatory after all. I don't know, I'm just the assassin; they're the ones truly behind the killings.

But if I get back and Jack isn't there, I'm going to kill everyone he's ever cared about, and by kill I don't mean torture and kidnap - I mean the instant slitting of the throat and the body thrown somewhere innocently, and the DNA wiped away, leaving the police to puzzle over, and me to hunt down Jack and finish off the job. I want to finish this job however it needs finishing. I don't think the angels are sure yet either and I think this'll be a long, hard day of decisions, and coffee mornings.

"Jacky." I called out, rattling my knuckles against his door. I figured it was polite to knock - the decent thing to do. They liked politeness and decency, didn't they? Humans I mean. I, quite frankly, haven't much of a care for either.

"Yeah... Come in..." A drowsy voice answered, and I was led to the assumption that he was still half asleep in that bed. His constant and regular need for sleep was something that confused me greatly. The mons- angels, didn't let me sleep, I was too busy - I had a job, a task, a purpose to fulfil and believe me, it felt better than everything.

I pushed the unlocked door open to reveal a shirtless Jack tangled up in the bed sheets, his face pushed into the pillow as he mumbled something about it being far too early. All in all, it was honestly very cute, but I didn't have time for cute right now; I was Alex Gaskarth ready to topple an entire business empire, but only if I could figure out how to wear a tie for more than an hour without accidentally strangling myself. And to the angels, I was Alex the Killer, I was Alex of justice and liberty, they were Anubis, weighing their souls against the feather, and I was Ammit, the devourer of souls.

"What's with the suit?" He mumbled, peeping out at me. The angels hissed as his eyes sparkled in the light. They didn't like the light, they didn't like how he shone. They were jealous and corrupted, and I think that's what left heaven in this state, maybe it was my job to fix it.

"Yeah, about that..." I grinned at him, noticing he'd sat up, almost sensing that this was important - he was clever like that. "I've got a job." I let a smirk flow over my features, basking in my accomplishments, the angels shutting up and leaving me to my arrogance for a few moments.

"Really?" He looked me up and down with wide unblinking eyes.

"Don't sound so surprised-"

"No, I mean... that's going to involve you leaving the house, leaving me... I presume." He mumbled, almost scared of what my reaction would be, and I just chuckled, because honestly, Jack was awfully cute, and somehow in all of this madness, still awfully innocent. The angels, however, did not agree. The angels despised, hated and loathed Jack. The hated his light, but maybe they simply couldn't see just how brightly it shone.

"Yes, it does, Jacky. In less than two minutes now, actually." He just looked up at me with disbelieving eyes, and I felt myself chuckling, wondering how a boy like Jack could suddenly be quite so dependent.

"You're leaving me..." The words tumbled from his lips dramatically.

"I thought you'd be excited, me giving you some private time... you can... masturbate or whatever guys do when their home alone. Personally I plot murders, but y'know-" I was going off on a rather psychopathic tangent that was probably scaring him just a little. The angels, however, this was their time to chuckle. And they loved it, because they didn't just chuckle, in fact they didn't just chuckle at all. They cackled and they didn't stop.

When I talked to Jack, the angels cackled.

"I'm not going to masturbate, Lex." He blushed violently, and that blush alone was enough to tell me that he was lying through and through.

"Sure thing," I winked at him, "I'm leaving you alone with the entirety of pornhub," I gestured towards the laptop that was lying on the carpet next to the bed, "and you aren't planning to masturbate? I smell bullshit." He flushed a horrible shade of red: he was definitely going to masturbate. They angels, however they didn't stop cackling, and it was going to burst my eardrums if I didn't leave soon.

"D-Don't you have to leave in like- now?" 

"Shit, yeah!" I noticed in a rather embarrassingly unprepared manner. "Well bye, enjoy pornhub."

"Enjoy work." He mumbled as I left the room and began on my journey into the world of economics and sociopaths, and general just plotting bastards. So really, I was rather at home in a world as scheming and fucked up as this one. Watercooler romances and coffee mornings aside.

The angels, though, the cackling, it didn't stop.

It only grew louder.

-

Jack. Day Eleven - 9:23

Alex's behaviour was odd, off and anything but the ordinary. A job, really? He didn't seem like the business entrepreneur- sociopaths. Ah, he wants a side job. I'm not entertaining enough clearly. I don't know whether to be offended, or simply relieved he hasn't killed me yet. The latter of the two seeming to be less and less likely with every day that passed by. But I could never know with someone quite so spontaneous and downright dangerous as Alex.

Alex really was just a hub of confusion and paranoia, and I think he smirked so often because that was precisely the effect he was going for. Alex liked to be feared, and he liked to be worshipped. He liked to be thought of as a god, a god of death perhaps, for all those tortured gone souls. He loved to choose who deserved to live and who deserved to die. He was simply addicted to that power, and as insane as that sounds, to be honest, I think it may just be the only thing that kept him sane.

Omegle was where I went, not pornhub, like Alex had so persistently suggested which only led me to believe that he had cameras installed in this room or something, and he wanted to watch me get myself off. Not that I was even planning to, it was still slightly creepy and just a little annoying. Omegle wasn't the best of places, but it took my mind off Alex, even if it was just momentarily, momentary relief was better than no relief at all.

Omegle was weird, but I wanted to speak to people and maybe the odd dick or so wasn't that unwanted- okay, if there were cameras maybe it was, but I craved human interaction from someone just a little bit saner than Alex. So I went to the hub of sanity on the internet, of course. Even the internet's depths of insanity, was saner than the majority of thoughts that passed through Alex's head, and I could tell that just be looking at him. I'd hate to know just what it'd be like to live and fucking thrive up there.

I didn't know what to put for similar interests, so I just left it blank and prayed against things I didn't want to think about and their chances of appearing on my screen in a somewhat haunting manner. Maybe I should have blocked certain things, but I hadn't the time or the effort and my brain was far too preoccupied with a certain Mr Alex Gaskarth, and that was the exact problem I was seeking to fix.

Connecting....

Connecting...

You're now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi!

You: Hi.

Stranger: Sup baby hit me up on skype

Stranger has disconnected.

Okay, maybe this wasn't the best idea of all. Sanity was clearly not Omegle's strong point, as anyone with a brain would have guessed, I on the other hand, had apparently been deprived of all brain matter recently.

You: Hi.

Stranger has disconnected.

Well, aren't I just a social hotspot? I shouldn't take it personally, because ninety percent of people would disconnect instantly if the first word they saw wasn't an ASL, or something equally as inviting.

-

After a few more shitty tries, I finally found someone who wasn't after 'fun times' or disconnected within the first few seconds, and I think I just broke through the gates of heaven.

You: Hi.

Stranger: hey, please don't send me a Kik for 'pictures' oh god. i just want a chat

You: haha i won't. i just want to talk too

Stranger: Wow are you even real?

You: unfortunately. I'm Jack btw.

Stranger: Cassadee. Hey do you want to talk somewhere easier in case this disconnects?

You: I have email?

Stranger: Yeah that sounds good.

I was doing practically everything Alex had advised me against and I even felt guilty about it, but Cassadee seemed nice, and real and generally not insane. Cassadee was what I need to keep me from going insane. And we'd be fine because it wasn't like I was going to tell her about what was really happening. She'd never know, she'd just be company and that'd be fine. Alex didn't need to know about Cassadee and Cassadee didn't need to know about Alex. That was simple and easy to follow.

Hey Jack:) So uhh tell me about yourself i guess?

I smiled at her message, really glad to have someone to talk to, but I really wasn't sure as to what the hell I could put back. I didn't know what to say about myself, because as sad as it may sound, the most important parts of me related to Alex, and Alex was a no go area with Cassadee, that was very much for sure.

Hey Cassadee:) I'm nineteen and I'm a guy, as may be able to guess. I... like... music. Blink 182 especially and New Found Glory... Yeah. There's not much to say. What about you?

Send. I was scared that out of nowhere, Cassadee was going to revert back into the typical Omegle shit and flash me with A/S/L and a picture of god knows what. Thankfully, she didn't - she was still Cassadee and she was still adequate online company. Adequate online company was certainly very hard to find these days, and with someone just as sane looking as Cassadee, I quite frankly felt like I hit a golden mine, or won the lottery or something.

Hey Jack:) I'm twenty two and I'm a girl as you could guess;) I like Blink too *high fives* And I totally should be a work now but I've been sick and it's not fun:L

I'll put aside all my concerns, she likes Blink, she's fine by me. Okay, that really wasn't the best attitude, especially when it came to the online world, but screw it. Getting kidnapped wasn't the best idea, so it wasn't as if I could ever have a worse one - this was definitely something that helped keep the insanity at bay. Optimism was a necessity; optimism was the light that shone bright through all darkness.

Oh that sounds bad. I'm sorry.

I replied, with sympathy and concern for my new found friend that thankfully happened to share my love for Blink.

Just be glad its not you ahha. whats your favourite blink song? Mine's Stockholm Syndrome. Don't you just think it's really just... interesting?

And then time was gone, with a response fired and a roaring discussion regarding the world's best band initiated, I didn't even notice when Alex got home, walked through the door and flopped on the bed beside me. Thankfully, he wasn't at all interested in the laptop screen and more of just cuddling with me.

I wanted to ask him what was wrong, but he wouldn't answer. He just clung tightly to my chest and I think for now, I was okay with that, I was okay with him.

But then the tears fell from his eyes, and then neither of us were okay at all.

"I have to do it, Jacky. I have to do it."

-

Alex. Day Twelve - 0:02

"I have to do it, Jacky. I have to do it."

My words had lingered in the silence for far too long, but it was just long enough for both us to accept the fates that would befall us. I'd accepted mine, and he knew, he knew what was to become of this whole ordeal; he knew it too well, I could too from the saddened glimpse in his eyes.

He knew what was going to happen, what needed to happen, and he knew that it needed to, but despite this, he was still stubborn enough to not want it to, but I guess that kind of innocently framed stubbornness was just what made Jack well... Jack. I just hated that I wouldn't be able to see that anymore.

"W-What do you have to do?" He knew - he just didn't want to know. He wanted to be told something else entirely and pretend things would never have to happen, but no, I'd already decided this all, and I'd spent far too long deciding as well. He wanted me, he wanted me to pretend that everything was alright for him, but I was Alex Gaskarth, I wasn't here to baby him - that's exactly what had gotten us into this mess in the first place.

"You know." My words came out in more of a linguated breath as opposed to actual formations of syllables, but he still managed to hear me - I could tell; I'd become painfully adept when it came to reading Jack and his emotions. It was a useful skill, but a painful skill, because sometimes thoughts were just kept private for a reason.

"I know you know." I didn't want to say it aloud and he wasn't going to guilt trip me into it, despite what those puppy dog eyes pleaded. Jack had a certain way with persuasion, and I was usually more than happy to given it, but it shouldn't affect me at all, I'm Alex Gaskarth, nothing should affect me, and there you have reason two as to why this has to happen.

"You're going to kill..." His words came to halt, his throat choking on air, unable to speak. I daren't finish his sentence for him either, leaving us in the most uncomfortable of silences ever known to man.

I began to think about last words. Last words were important, even if it'd only be the two of us to hear them; last words were the last remaining shard of a person's soul, drifting away as their spirit went beyond the veil.

At first I wasn't sure if I was ready, or if I really wanted to do this at all, but now I was more than certain. There was nothing else but this - it was the only thing to do, and it wasn't just required, it was begging to be done. It was like a dog yapping at my heels, and Jack was the cat distracting it and trying to tempt the dog away... hmm, Barakat, ironic, huh?

I began to think that maybe I didn't want to, but really I was just selfish - this is what's best, for the both of us. It's better for me, and it's better for Jacky - it'll keep the angels away, or the monsters. I can't differentiate between the two anymore, and I'm beginning to suspect that maybe the words 'angel' and 'monster' were just synonyms; two words for the same thing, leaving a confused society to interpret them as two different things.

The angels don't want me to, but I'll shut them out for now. They need what I'm going to take, and they're ravenous vultures circling overhead, wondering if they can still abuse the dead flesh. Angels and monsters are like scavengers, if anything, because they don't kill or feed directly, the abuse other people to their own will, and that's both brilliantly clever and terrifying at the same time.

I don't think I should have told Jack this. It'll probably scare him, but he needs to know what's going to happen. I owe him that at very least. The deathbed changes the world, doesn't it? It's odd how people only seem to care when someone's gone, but then again, humans. Humans are alive they don't care for some normal, only someone different, someone dead. That's why zombies hunt the living... or maybe just for revenge...

Isn't revenge just rather odd? I do love revenge. I think revenge is one of my favourites, emotions I mean. Revenge is like addiction - it's compelling and powerful, yet gruesome and cruel. To feel revenge is to feel a true act of god, because what the angels want... it isn't justice, it's revenge. I know that now. Revenge is the blood red carpets and the shattered light bulbs casting ghastly shadows upon a grimy ceiling, revenge is the murder scene and what was left of a life once gone.

But what I'm about to do isn't revenge, not for myself, not for anyone. There'll be nothing left - I'll make sure of that. There'll be no murder scene, no fingerprints, and no memories either; there entire occurrence will just be wiped from existence. It's what needs to happen - it's for the best. It's survival, in an ironic way, because who knew that survival could only be accomplished with death?

I was stalling by now, because even now I was scared - scared to do it. And this fear, this emotion was exactly why this needed to happen, but I know for sure now, I am going to do it. I am sure of that now, very sure in fact... more than sure.

"You're going to kill..." He tried again, his voice a raspy whisper this time, but he still couldn't quite force the next word out. Maybe I'd have to do it for him. I didn't want to do it for him, because I didn't quite want to make this feel quite that real for the both of us - the gun in my back pocket would do a perfect job of that by itself.

As little as it wanted to be said, it had to. It was a shy word, in an unorthodox sentence, one that held far too much meaning for so few words. It was the words that really made my hand grasp the gunmetal, and take the euphoric pleasure within the cold metal against my skin - it was messed up, but so was I.

"Yes, Jacky." Our eyes locked for what I thought would be the final time, as I pulled out the gun in my back pocket. I let my right hand fit snugly around the handle, and readying my index finger upon the trigger, not wasting my bullet by just letting the tip of my finger hover millimetres above the cold metal. "I'm going to kill-" He didn't let me finish my sentence, but part of me was secretly glad, because none of me particularly wanted to.

"Fuck-" He gasped aloud as he watched with wide eyes as I pulled the loaded gun out where he could see it. I felt a slight smirk dance upon the corners of my lips, because even now I still loved being right, surprising him, and that was far too human. That had to go, this all had to go; I'd tear this whole fucking house down if I had to, and I did, by the looks of it.

"I'm going to kill myself."

The words seemed to take a physical impact upon him, as if I just aimed the gun at his forehead and not mine. I wasn't scared, not really, or at least I was stubborn enough to pretend so hard that I actually found myself numbing the pain, but deep inside, nothing could stop that panicked heart of mine from fluttering at the speed of a hummingbird's heartbeat.

"Lex-" He took a step closer and I took a step back; we were like clockwork, but clockwork that worked against itself - a clock that would never quite display the right time, because we weren't opposite magnets anymore. We were both the same magnet, and I hated how this had occurred.

The angels just cackled, the angels always cackled when it came to Jack. "Please-" He managed to choke out through tears... what tears? Tears? Tears? Fuck, tears just complicated everything. I looked away from the watery eyes that seemed to stab straight into my soul, not that I particularly had much of a soul really. "Just put the gun down."

I adamantly pressed the end against my forehead, almost basking against the cold gunmetal pressed against my forehead so hot and full of racing blood. Guns were simple, not complicated, and they always gave you an easy option, even if in the long term it wasn't the right one, it always gave you short term benefits and if things worked out particularly well, maybe the long term wouldn't be an issue anymore either.

"Now you say that?" I began to chuckle a little maniacal, and the angels cackled with me; I was glad to be entertaining them - at least I could manage that right? But that's all I was, the joker. They found this all funny, amusing, even.

"I thought-"

"The gun's been in view for at least five minutes, Jacky." I whispered, hating how much he made me want to change my mind, but I shouldn't. He's just human, he only cares when the trigger's about to be pulled. The rest of this mess is fine, but now... now things just get complicated. Complication is nothing more than a complication, and surely even they can be overcome somehow.

I knew I shouldn't have told him, but a part of me felt like he deserved to know, some warning before he was faced with the body, lifeless and cold as stone on the bathroom floor. He shouldn't have to see me like that- I shouldn't have to care, but somehow I had found myself in a situation where I did - it was odd, sickeningly odd, and there was little either of us could do about it apart from eradicating one of us from existence, but I couldn't do that to Jacky... that's why I was the one who had to go.

Fuck, these emotions. I'm too human; the mexiletine doesn't work anymore, no matter how many pills I force down my throat... it just doesn't block these emotions out anymore. They're only getting stronger by the day, and sometimes when you want to destroy the bomb, you have to burn the whole building down to get to it.

"Alex." His eyes met with mine - sad eyes, both pairs. I didn't like the sadness; I didn't particularly want to die, but I didn't want Jack to more. "I didn't think you were going to kill yourself." He said it as if it was such an unbelievable thing, but then again, he was only human, I couldn't expect him to really grasp the weight of the situation in anyway at all.

I just laughed, but this time the angels didn't cackle with me, it was silence, and somehow the silence managed to unnerve me more than the cackling, because that's what it would be like to die - endless silence, and I didn't want that- yes, I did. "What on earth else could you have possibly thought?"

"I thought," he bit his lip, his eyes away from my face, my forehead, the gun. "I thought you were going to kill," his eyes finally met with mine, and then he uttered the most painful word of them all - the one that really struck me twice through the heart, "me."

"I would never-"

"Six people, Alex. Six people - that's a lot." His gaze met me hard, and I just knew he was right, but it didn't stop the confusion and the compulsion. Six people was a lot when I really did come to think about it, despite the fact that I really didn't like to, I found this now, on my deathbed, to almost be a necessity.

I thought of the six lives that had ended because of me, I thought of the six partners with broken hearts because of me, I thought of the six families with an empty seat at the dinner table because of me, I thought of the pets that had no one to feed them because of me. I thought of the empty seats on the bus, and the empty desks at offices, the never to be used birthday presents, and the unworn clothes, the friendship groups one member short, and the coffee mornings with one member short... all because of me.

And only then did I quite manage to realise just how much a human life really meant.

"I know." I breathed out the words again, letting everything sink in all at once, because now, with all the tonnes of guilt pressing down on me like a colossal emotional boulder. "That's one of the reasons why."

"No." I didn't know what were firmer his words or his gaze, but I didn't want to and I didn't have an awful lot of time to ponder over the matter, and mostly I just didn't want to - it hurt. There was no denying that, but I should be used to it; everything hurt these days, and what I needed to do was quite possibly the only way to stop all this mess.

"There are no reasons for you to die, for anyone to die, in fact." Jack was wrong, very wrong - more wrong than he'd ever been, and the broken part of me didn't want to say this to his face, but the rest of me wanted to scream the words into his ears until his eardrums burst and blood trickled down his ear canals.

"What about the angels?" My words were quiet so they couldn't hear, but my efforts were fruitless, the cackles began as the word left my lips. The cackles were welcome though, because the cackles only encouraged me; the cackles knew this had to be done. The angels had practically commissioned the whole ordeal, in fact.

"They have an awful lot of reasons to justify my death, a horde of reasons as to why this needs to happen." I looked him in the eyes, letting the truth flow through our eye contact, "and believe me, Jacky, it does need to happen."

"What angels?" He hit me with a confused look and I hit him with one right back. "Angels don't kill, Alex. Angels are good-" He was very wrong, Jack was far too human, far too good at being wrong. I didn't like humans and their default orientation towards failure, I was above them, and I knew how the world worked better than they did.

"Angels and monsters are just two words for the same thing; choose the one that takes your fancy." My voice was harsh, but I wasn't quite angry at him, I was more focused on my shaking hand that so much wanted to move the gun, but I wouldn't let it. The gun was staying; my fate was locked - it had been from the start.

"No they're not - they're too very different words." He spoke in an over exaggerated, patronising tone, one that I didn't like being spoken to in. The gun didn't like it either, and soon enough the gunmetal was firmly pressed back onto my skin. "Please- just... fuck, Lex. Drop the gun."

I ignored his words. "Do you think you're an angel or a monster, then?"

"I'm neither..." He paused letting his breath settle in the colour air, "I'm just human. We all are."

"I'm not." Our eyes met again, for what I really hoped was really the final time. "I'm a killer."

"It doesn't matter; it doesn't change the human heart that's beating inside of you." He protested, but he was wrong, all so very wrong.

"I was born with a killer's heart, because this heart it's not built to feel... anything at all." He was very shocked at this, but I didn't blame him, humans weren't built like I was and they didn't like to think that I could be anything but lying. "But it does feel, and that's why. It can't cope, you know. It just can't."

"Try to cope-"

"These are human emotions, I'm not human!" I was determined to prove a point here, just to let him know exactly how things were, because I knew and he just didn't, he didn't at all, and he was just far too stubborn to grasp that. I hated this sometimes, but other times, I loved it.

"No, you are human. You're just very fucking sick!" He took a menacing step towards me, his anger spurring him on, making him into a determined soul. His words did actually kind of hurt, despite the empty shell he was intent upon firing them into, but that's the thing about empty shells, they reverberate.

"I'm sick." I repeated and he nodded, albeit a little less defiantly this time. I wasn't sick, I was surviving- fuck, I tried so hard, and all I was, all I'd ever be, was sick. I needed to survive, but I wasn't stupid enough to push the truth aside.

But, I knew, I always knew I was going to die, Jack was going to die. The world was going to burn and the death certificate would have my name on it, embroidered in golden and spiralled writing, like little ornate spiders of death curled out upon the paper. "I need curing." My finger was ready, it could feel the metal of the trigger and now I was ready, fucking ready for it, and I pulled, I pulled so hard my finger could just about snap off even before the bullet went anywhere near my head.

I pulled and...

Nothing...

I don't mean that I was nothing, there was nothing. Nothing had occurred, not even my own demise - I didn't like it; I liked the job to be done properly, and it certainly hadn't been, not in the slightest. This was a piss poor pisstake of a pissy bitch end.

Nothing happened.

"It's not loaded." I stood in mesmerisation and as I just found myself looking at the gun, he took the opportunity to snatch it straight from my grasp. I didn't like to think of his fingers curling around the gunmetal... I was jealous, almost. It was weird - i shouldn't be jealous of a gun, but never had a gun mattered quite that much as it did now, because this gun was my escape route, my only remaining option. "Hey-"

"It's for the best." He was lying. Everyone lied these days and I didn't know why. Humans were terrible at lying - we could all tell, even the humans themselves. Lying was even frowned upon in human society, maybe because it was a painfully visible weakness and humans didn't like the obvious. They didn't like to remember who they are, what they are - weak.

"You know what is for the best? This." I pointed to the gun, the metal glistening in the artificial light - I liked the way it glistened, the lamps painting the end in an enticing light. It was really very enticing, especially in this situation - there was no denying that.

"I was doing it for you, for you, to save you from myself... and them. The angels, they want you, but you're too strong; they can only get to you through me, so I need to protect you... I need to destroy me-" The tears came again, but this time from my eyes. I didn't like crying - it was too human, but slowly, I found myself becoming human, like someone turning to stone, except I was turning from stone.

I liked being stone; empty, cold and unfeeling - this was all too much, too human, too real. I could hear my heart beat - I wanted to shoot the damn thing straight out of my chest, but with hands shaking like these, I'd miss, and that'd be awfully messy. I didn't want Jack to watch my organs spurt out all over the floor, and I especially didn't want him to have to clean up the mess once I'd finally gone.

Then suddenly, I felt his arms around me, pulling me close to his chest, our bodies were pressed together and then nothing else quite seemed to matter anymore. Things should matter though, because this comfort was all lies - he knew that maybe he could just talk me out of this, and there was nothing that was going to stop him from trying, because he was Jack and he was awfully big-headed and awfully human like that. I didn't like it, but I liked him - it was an odd combination to say the very least.

"Please do only one thing for me," he whispered into my ear, pulling me up with his hug and fixing the slight height difference between us. I always didn't like that he was taller, but now, I didn't mind quite so much, maybe I wanted to be looked after, perhaps being in control all the time wasn't quite as enticing as it seemed from a first glance.

There was a weight on my shoulders; it was a weight I wanted to lose, but a weight I never wanted Jack to carry. I didn't doubt that he could carry it, because that boy was strong, both physically and mentally, I simply didn't want him to, because even on his shoulders it still hurt me, because he'd become an awfully permanent part of me, almost like my favourite arm.

"Anything, I'll do anything." I mumbled into his chest, letting my words muffle into the blue cotton of his V-neck. It smelled good against his skin; it was his now, I couldn't wear it anymore. Jack was important enough to have his own things now.

Jack would have this apartment when I finally died, Jack would have the guns and the pills, I just hoped he wouldn't use them, because he was my Jack and I wanted him more than anything, just to stay pure and innocent, because even something as little as that showed that there was still hope in this whole, light within the dark.

"Remember this." He paused, his words coming out slow and clear, "I can't lose you. And I won't." He was horribly instant upon this, and I didn't know why... he just didn't want to understand, and he was human so I could partly figure out as to why.

"I don't want them to hurt you-" I protested, however my words still remained nothing to him, drifting away into the silence as they left my slightly parted lips.

"Look, the angels, Lex." He pulled my away slightly, holding me at arm's length and letting our eyes connect. "They're not real-" I tried to interrupt him, but he shushed me, and just this once I didn't mind all that much. "I know they seem real, I know they seem as real as you and I, but they're not. The angels are not the enemy, the enemy is the mind."

"I was trying to blow my brains out-" I needed to express just how real, and just how necessary this all was, but his words, and as long as he continued to speak, his words they continued to sweet talk me into thinking this wasn't necessary at all. And I hated that, but I was far too complacent within it.

"There are more efficient ways to defeat something than pure violence." He sounded like some hippie, but I didn't care. I couldn't care at all, because he was my Jacky and that's all that mattered in this reality stricken moment of madness, which I found myself viewing behind blood stained glass shards.

"I'm a killer - violence is all I know, violence is who I am." I hated saying out loud, especially to someone who mattered as much as Jack did, but it was the truth - it had to be said, and I wasn't quite the type to shy away from things like that, but now, I really didn't know who I was anymore, especially not with the unloaded gun as his arms around me.

"I'm going to change that." Before I could even fathom protesting, he pushed his lips against mine. I kissed back; amazed at his powers of shutting me up, and now I was content in our silence, mainly because he had silenced me in the most perfect of ways.

I could reach for gun, as it now hung loosely at his side, but you know what... I didn't.

And now I've really won, because the angels know I'm clever, and my death was what they really wanted all along.

He pulled away, still blushing in an impeccably cute manner. "I promise."

"I promise too."

-

Alex. Day Thirteen - 10:34

I didn't like the whole business establishment in the slightest. It was too ordered, the walls of society to rigid and firm within those four bleach white walls. On the other hand, the colour scheme was absolutely appalling, and my eyes were on the verge of bleeding out from all the bleach white woods that coated me like some sort of home decorating cocoon.

We were confined within desk, cubicles of our own, and it didn't feel natural. They were supposed to pull us away from the distractions of reality, but nothing felt more distracting than them. Their voices; the business and life all around me. I felt trapped, trapped inside this shitty little pocket of reality, and you could not imagine how much I wanted to tear the entire place down. Then they'd be sorry - then they'd be fucking sorry.

I do hate humans; Jack just seems to be an awful exception.

The girl in the cubicle next to me who drank excessive amounts of coffee, and the old guy who just sat on his arse playing Angry Birds on my opposite side; I wanted them gone. They were the distraction. I shouldn't have applied for this job - how could I have been so stupid, because everyone here, everyone here is so fucking human.

And I want them gone. I want to kill them. I want to kill them all.

Maybe tomorrow I'll bring my gun. Imagine how easy it'd be to take them all out. Then they'd really all be sorry. I want them to know their place; they think their positions and suits and secretaries make them superior, but they live in the world of business and sociopathy. They know nothing about the real world, they know nothing about real psychopaths. And they'll continue to know nothing even as I slit their throats.

"Hey... uhm can you pass me that water?" Coffee drinker girl peeked her head out of her cubicle, her eyes set upon me and the very little work I'd actually accomplished with the hour or so I'd been here.

I wasn't trying to please anyone, that was for sure, but part of me wanted to succeed here. I didn't have to be here, although my bank statements may disagree slightly, but now I was here, I needed to succeed, and no one, not even her could stop me. Her with her fucking water.

I glanced around in the direction of her pointed finger and handed her a bottle of water that I was certain wasn't even hers, and quite possibly belonged to the Angry Birds addict, but he was too enthralled with the joys of firing virtual birds at virtual pigs to notice his litre bottle of water go missing, therefore I didn't care.

"Thanks." Her lips gave way to smile that was only out of politeness, as she watched my expression stay blank cold and emotionless, despite her polite tendencies. This may have confused her just a little, but really, I like it when I confuse people, when they don't know what to do or how to do it. I like to be in control.

"Do I not get a 'you're welcome'?" Her red lips parted, giving way to a tone; light-hearted but somehow it shocked me nonetheless. This girl clearly wasn't of the average - she knew her way around a person. I didn't want to, but I had to step up my game. She wasn't going to win - that was for sure.

"I didn't think it warranted one." I stumbled over my words and the angels would have cackled loud enough for everyone in this building to hear them if they weren't trapped outside - they couldn't get inside here; there were too many humans, too many of them entirely for my liking, but I guess the excess of them did have its occasional uses.

Humans were soldiers in an army; controlled even when they didn't know they were. They were always involved in some scheme or other by a controlling character. Even now, in this very work place, the majority of them weren't aware of it, but they were simply all drones of the boss here. They were soldiers to his work, and none of them even had a clue.

That was the beauty of the influential qualities of poor little humans, but this girl I could tell she wasn't like that, but she wasn't quite the psychopath herself at all. She was in-between, rather like Jack, but somehow in a totally different way. Maybe it was my strong and immediate dislike to her, or just the fact that she could be considered a threat. The angels could channel themselves through her.

She'd have to go; they couldn't get me here, and they wouldn't get me here.

"You need to brush up on your manners then." Was she flirting with me...? Or was she just trying to win in a particularly eloquent manner? I didn't have a clue, and I didn't like that... I despised it, in fact. She thought she was winning, but really she'd be so very sorry when the bullet hit her windpipe. Then she'd be sorry, but she'd just be body, and then she'd just be the ashes I was burning-

God, it's been far too long since I've killed someone. She's most definitely my next target.

"Your apparent unappreciation towards my manners is appalling - I didn't have to pass you that water, you see." I didn't like talking to her; she was challenging, but not in the way Jack was, but I'd rather discuss trivial matters of etiquette with her as opposed to actually cracking on down with the even more trivial shitload we'd been assigned to file and the like. Speaking of cracking down, I wanted to crack her spine.

She was all sophisticated with the red lipstick, dark hair and high heels that clicked as she walked. I knew it then; she was the sexy businesswoman - that's how she took them down, but I didn't swing that way, which would of course make it all the more enjoyable to watch her try and take me down, because she wouldn't accomplish anything of the sort.

"It's expected, like the you're welcome." She winked - definitely flirting with me. I would let her play her little game; however I wouldn't be held responsible when she inevitably lost. The twitch of the lipstick smile would be gone as soon as the air left her lungs.

I liked that moment in particular; watching as all the life was sucked out of something. It was quite literally breath-taking, and also awfully empowering. It was addictive, and sometimes I thought that I truly lived for the thrill of that single moment, but I was Alex Gaskarth and I was the thrill within every moment.

"What's not expected is for someone like you to speak to me, a stranger, so rudely." I, too wasn't entirely serious within my accusations, and was simply amusing myself as the hours ticked on by. The hours of her life too; I think I'd particularly enjoy ending her life, and it wouldn't be simple, it wouldn't be quick. I'd enjoy working on her, I'd get her to trust me, and I'd enjoy everything moment of planning my massacre bazaar. It'd be flawless and deadly and she'd be impressed upon her deathbed, because she seemed like that kind of person.

"Tell me your name, and then we're not strangers anymore." She was awfully clever and I couldn't help but chuckle a little at that one, causing her eyebrows to rise in skepticality. She was clever yet confused, because I was cleverer than her, and she really wasn't expecting that.

And that was precisely the best part, when someone didn't expect your move, the surprise, the shock. There's nothing better than knowing you're clever and having someone on their deathbed reassure you of that fact.

Jack's softened me, but she's made me remember just how much I miss killing. Just how much I miss the thrill and the chase, but you've got to love playing cat and mouse when you're always the cat within a world of mice. It may seem boring, but if it does, then you're just another mouse - that's really quite clear, and you should watch out, because the cat's coming for you soon.

"What makes you think I'll be obliged to do so?" I puzzled over the possibility of telling her my name - it wasn't particularly disadvantageous, I just didn't quite want to let her win this dysfunctional half argument that was bubbling up between the two of us. I wanted to win this one, and I wanted to win the rest.

"Your persistence in thinking I'm a stranger." She was clever within her answers - there was little doubt about that, and there was no doubt that I hated that fact. I was selfish; I liked to be the clever one. In fact, I needed to be the clever one. It wasn't just a selfish desire; it was who I am, and who I needed to be.

"I'm quite content within that persistence." I reassured her, checking the time tirelessly. I'd love to kill her, and really it would be quite the honour. To watch her walls fall and the cleverness tumble, and to remember how it was all simply a facade and that I was the only one who'd win this war on humanity (Jacky by my side, of course) but I was the one really in control, and they'd find that out before too long.

"You're so arrogant." The words just tumbled from her lips with no precaution and a devastatingly apparent lack of regret. The lipstick poisoned them red, and she wanted to think I was nervous, but I wasn't - things were only just starting to get interested.

"Pardon-"

"Has no one told you that before?" She was winding me up now, toying with me and i didn't like it. She liked to think she was winning, and it was almost cute as to how safe she thought she was. I wanted to teach her a lesson in arrogance right here and right now, but I wasn't that stupid; I knew how the world worked and I knew how she worked, and I was really going enjoy myself in bringing her down, down to her fucking demise.

"No one's ever been quite so 'arrogant' as to." She was confused with that one, and there was no denying that I loved that more than I could ever enjoy anything; I wasn't even trying and she was just falling straight into my hands.

She wasn't in control, and it soon became apparent that she was just like the rest of them, she just liked to paint herself up as a bigger opponent with bright red lipstick and false eyelashes, but really that did nothing for her insides. She'd be dead soon anyway, so I wouldn't recommend she do anything about it.

"Surely it takes an arrogance person to point out another's arrogance, especially when disregarding their own?" My words were clever and I could even bask a little in them, especially with the fact that I'd definitely disgruntled her this time.

I'd thrown her right off the tracks, but really that wasn't enough. In fact, it was better if she was still on the tracks, but she hadn't quite realised that I was the oncoming train.

She shrugged it off, as best she could, but it still wasn't anywhere near a good job when it came to hiding her emotions, but I was Alex Gaskarth - was she ever going to successfully hide anything from someone like me?

"I never said I wasn't arrogant."

"Ah, but you never said you were either." She narrowed my eyes at me, clearly irritating with my far too carefully planned responses. I had this all planned out right to checkmate by now, and she hadn't even moved her first pawn.

It was a satisfying feeling, but it still couldn't quite compete with the one Jack gave me from simply existing, but then again, Jack was pretty much an enigma. He didn't quite fit within the structured frames of reality and only after close examination under ultra violet light, did the boy begin to make the slightest bit of sense.

In fact, everything around him seemed to scramble and I'd find myself fumbled to decode my own mind. That was Jack Barakat for you, though.

"I'll be more specific next time." She assured me, and I wished she wouldn't be, because it was my job to be in control - not her's and apparently that wasn't quite clear enough for her yet. Maybe I'd have to work upon my clarity, but part of me just liked the feeling of living in the dark.

"Yeah, you do that." My words weren't the most eloquent in form, that was really for sure, but I let them slither between my lips regardless, because now, I knew I was winning either way, and her and that obnoxiously red lipstick couldn't do a single fucking thing to stop me in my quest for her demise.

"I will." She continued, not quite wanting to turn away and resume her filing quite yet. "Are you sure I can't get your name?" I rolled my eyes at her arrogant persistence. I was Alex Gaskarth; if she was worthy of my name, she should be able to read it right off my demeanour.

"How about I get yours?" I avoided her question entirely and asked for her name. I wondered what'd fit her - it clearly wasn't a a plain name job, it'd have to be something unusual, something perplexing, but not too unique as to not to draw too much attention to her. This all seemed rather ridiculous though: names couldn't define a person in anyway whatsoever.

"Not a chance." She winked deviously at me, and I wondered if she'd still wink if she knew what I was capable of, what I'd done to people in the past, in fact I was sure she wouldn't, and this was precisely why the thought intrigued me so much. "I'm afraid that information is entirely classified."

"Are you part of the secret service or something?" The question was entirely a joke, but I was all too afraid that the answer was not. Then again, she didn't quite look like the type, but surely wasn't disguise their top priority? Ugh, these government shitbags were too much bother to even fathom keeping track of these days.

"They don't hire dumb blondes." She laughed it off. 

"Not all of your hair's blonde." I noted.

"It still counts, dumbass."

"Hey, don't call me a dumbass, blondie." I wasn't flirting with her, well not intentionally at the very least. I should just put these thoughts aside; I wasn't cheating on Jack, I was just entertaining myself within the self-induced boredom of the working office. And there was the matter that the more she grew to trust me, the easier it would be for me to kill her.

"You're blonder than me." She noted, and it was true.

"I could kill you." She laughed, because she didn't know that I wasn't joking. She didn't know about my guns, my chains, my poisons, my pills, and she didn't know about Jack and the six people who'd died for me to be here today.

"I'd like to see you try - nice puny arms, weakling." She'd be fucking sorry for that one. I'd break her spine apart with these puny fucking arms.

"I'm not sure you'd like to see me kill you." I reminded her; most people prefer anaesthetic.

"Oh I'd like to see the day, I'd fucking love it." She was in a fit of giggles, but I was a murderer. And she didn't know; I was a secret murderer.

Secrets were wonderful things; some people had secrets about how they stole a chocolate bar when they were little, or some had secrets about how they cheated on their partner, or how they killed the goldfish, but I had a terrible secret, yet one that I revelled in. I was a murderer, and I loved it.

"You underestimate me." I told her.

"Is that so?" She still thought I was joking, but this wasn't a joking matter at all. Would she still laugh at the sedatives and the knife in her back, and the chains to the wall?

"Yes." No, she wouldn't laugh.

"Don't make blonde jokes then." I shrugged.

"Freedom of speech." She rolled her eyes at that, but I was right and she knew that.

"Now that one really is bullshit."

"Not if you go about it the right way." I let a smirk lap onto my face.

"And you'd know that, of course."

"Yeah I do." She remained utterly unimpressed. "Just get back to your filing."

"Is that just like 'get back in the kitchen'?"

"Interpret it as you like." And with that, I turned back into my cubicle, leaving the girl with no name to not her water.

"Damn, you arsehole." I chuckled a little, hearing her curse to herself over the cubicle wall.

I'd have to get rid of her. And it'd have to be soon, and there wouldn't be a single doubt within my enjoyment of it.

-

Jack. Day Thirteen - 18:06

Alex had seemed to have forgotten about the whole suicide attempt thing from yesterday, the gun being unloaded and well hidden away; I thought he was good now. I was still concerned nonetheless, but I think it was an irrational thing, something he didn't entirely mean or want to do and I'm glad we were over it now, because I found myself in an odd situation. I found myself loving him, despite the fact I didn't particularly want to.

A beep emitted from the laptop, which I'd grown awfully attached to over my ownership of it. I looked down to see a message from Cassadee, and found myself opening it without hesitance.

Hey jack. you got time to chat?

I grinned at her, responding without hesitance.

yeah sure ofc i do, what do you wanna chat about?

I was glad to take my mind off my train wreck of a life, in return for Cassadee's at any time.

Not all that much. Just general shit: I hate my job, I hate my fucking bitch of sister and my friend Lisa's being a bitch about something she should even know about or care about. I suppose you're not all that interested in girl problems though.

As gay as it sounded, I didn't actually care, and was more than eager to hear about whatever the hell was going on in Cassadee's life, relevant in anyway, or not.

No, it's fine - just tell me about it. I'm here to listen:)

-

Cassadee: Well, where should I start? Lisa, I think. She's pissing me off the most at the moment, considering the fact she's attempting to message to me and I'm doing a very bad job of ignoring her.

Jack: Oh, you considered blocking her or would that be too much? I don't know, elaborate on the problem first and I may be able to offer my assistance more successfully.

Cassadee: She'll get so pissed if I block her, Jesus Christ. I'd love to though, thanks for the suggestion. Offer your assistance? What is this some kind of online therapy? Well, I go up to her and tell her about this guy I like and I very clearly state that I'like-like' him, and then as soon as I show her the picture of him, she says he's hot and saves it - what the fuck. And when she got home, she found his facebook now and she's refusing to give it to me. I'm the one who trusted her with my crush on him and fucking hell.

Jack: Well, no offense, but she sounds like a total bitch. So do you think she's messaging that guy right now, and maybe even flirting with him or whatever?

Cassadee: None taken, you're right after all. Fuck, I don't know, or don't even want to think about it for that matter. She's such a flirt though; I mean she just dumped her boyfriend yesterday.

Jack: How about you just barge into her house and steal her laptop and run?

Cassadee: She wouldn't let me in without burning the thing. She's so uptight about her internet history it's concerning. I'm beginning to think she's a secret pornstar or something.

Jack: Give me her full name and I'll search her up.

Cassadee: What on facebook? You attracted to bitches now?

Jack: Two things, I don't have facebook and I'm gay.

Cassadee: You're gay? Aw, do you have a boyfriend or anything?

Jack: Yeah, he's kind of rough on the outside, but he's a sweetheart really.

Cassadee: That's really cute - I hope you guys last.

Jack: I really do too. Wait, I've just realised if she's got his facebook, she'll have added him as a friend - search her friends for his picture.

Cassadee: Oh my god thanks! It'll take forever as she adds just about anyone, but yeah thank you.

-

Suddenly the door slammed open - Alex.

Jack: Shit, sorry I have to go.

Cassadee: Why?

Jack: Sorry.

I slammed the laptop lid down instantly, and looked up to face Alex, who was standing in the doorway, a tie hung loosely around his neck as he carried a severely pissed off expression. This sometimes seemed to be his to-go expression.

"Looking at porn, were we, Jacky?" He snapped at me, throwing himself onto the bed down next to me.

"Uhh... no I- I... no." The words stumbled from my lips as my cheeks flushed a horrible shade of pink.

"Jacky, baby - that was an activity for the both of us." He purred at me, pushing me down against the bed and crawling on top of me.

"Alex? W-what are you doing?" I panicked a little under him.

"Shh." He placed a cold finger to my lips. "Don't worry; I just want to make out with you."

"Oh." I breathed a sigh of relief - I loved him, I just hated when he got all possessive and wanted to fuck me.

"I've had a fucking boring day at work, Jacky. I need you to make my day worth it."

"You're the expert, Alex." I stuttered out, still nervously when regarding any kind of activities of this matter.

"But practice makes perfect, Jacky." He whispered seductively, pulling my shirt off without a moment's thought. "Shirts get in the way, don't you think?"

I nodded, not out of agreement, but just because I didn't know what else to say.

Soon enough, his hands were guiding my hands under his shirt and helping me awkwardly pull it off him.

"Perfect." He whispered, running a finger down my torso, before crashing his lips against mine, and pulling up slightly to force me to pull my head up to meet his lips.

He got desperate, parting his lips and letting his tongue through mine with very little warning. His hands raking through my messy hair, entwining themselves within the dark brown strands.

He mumbled something in audible against my lips as he bit down, savouring every part of me he could. I felt like a ragdoll, utterly inexperienced in the matter and doing very little to pleasure him in anyway.

So I just went for it, I moved one hand down and squeezed his crotch. He let out a definite moan at that, moaning right into my lips and collapsing into my grip. 

He pulled his lips away momentarily, looking down at me with hungry, passionate eyes. "Do that again." He ordered between pants and I wasn't one to disobey.

"Fuck." He moaned into my touch and immediately placing his lips against my neck and sucking hard. "I'm going to give you so many hickeys for that - your neck will be sore for weeks."

I moaned with the pressure of his lips against my neck - it was a sweet spot for sure. "Fuck, please do."

"Oh, Jacky." He pulled his lips away momentarily. "You know I'd love to."

"Don't fucking stop!" I barked at him and he chuckled, hesitating a moment just to tease me, before returning to his hickey mission.

-

It was an unexpected make out session, but this one had been a good experience, because he'd respected how I wasn't quite comfortable with full on sex yet. It had taken him two previous attempts, but on the third try, he finally got it he finally understood.

And that gave me hope, because Alex and I could work, but only if we tried, and with Alex that really would be hard.

Our bond will break 'cause you can't relate to anyone, to anything at all.

-

Jack. Day Fourteen - 20:48

"Alex!" His name left my lips harsh and scared like a warning signal, but I gained little response as my boyfriend's head dipped into the sink once again. It was horrible to watch, but I couldn't just look away and leave him.

Retching sounds reverberated between walls of the enclosed kitchenette as he threw up into the kitchen sink. It was disgusting, but my concern for the boy had overdriven my dislike for sick entirely, my brain rewiring itself into a terrible state of co-dependency.

Co-dependency really was a perplexing matter, and not one to be taken lightly by any means. Co-dependency really could break or make someone and right now, I found myself directly amidst that curse. Not that I found myself minding that much, because well, Alex was Alex and I was far too attached to the guy for my own good.

"Jacky, I'm fine-" He mumbled groggily, his words coming to a halt for reasons I didn't quite want to imagine. For a 'fine' guy, he was puking in our sink an awful lot, or was that just me. I didn't know.

"You're quite clearly not... we were cuddling and then-" I just looked at his hunched over state in disbelief. I just couldn't quite understand how he was now puking his guts out within seconds. The world just had an awful habit of not adding up like that.

"I wouldn't say cuddling-" He defended a point with no valid reason. Alex was just stupidly stubborn like that, though. It was a quality I'd grown a rather strong love/hate relationship with.

I loved the fact that he always questioned everything and never quite let anything past him unanswered, but if you flip the coin, it can be just the most annoying quality in the whole goddamn world.

"I would, Alex. I would!" I protested; my protest had reason at the very least. Now that just sounds pretentious, but it's not like I care. Well maybe I do, maybe I do actually care a hell of a lot.

He sighed and pulled his head up, and it was clear that he really wasn't in the best of states, as he looked up at me with sorry and defeated eyes. He wasn't okay - that was clear. Getting him to admit it would be another matter entirely though.

"You're ill, Lex." I held out my hand and he took it, gripping tightly to my flustered palm as I grabbed a dishcloth and wiped his face clean of god knows what. I didn't quite want to touch his face, but this was necessary and to not would be an asshole thing to do.

"I-I'm not, I'm getting better." His voice was stern, but his voice cracked almost as if he wasn't quite sure of his words, or if he was simply lying to himself, which I severely suspected was in fact the case.

"You're not, Lex. You weren't puking yesterday." He just grimaced at me as if I was far off the point and heaved himself up onto a barstool, throwing himself back against the wall. I didn't want this mess; neither of us did - I just wanted him to be magically better, but it was evident that things simply didn't quite work that way.

"I'm better than I was yesterday - I promise." That was a complete and utter lie, but on the off chance it wasn't, I found myself in a situation to be severely concerned

"If you're like this today then how bad were you yesterday?" I cocked one eyebrow up, doubting every word that departed from those lips of his and wondering why. I shouldn't be in a situation like this, with Alex of all people. I was supposed to trust him, he was supposed to trust me; we were supposed to trust each other, but he was clearly hiding something from me.

I didn't like that at all; I didn't want to be a nosy bitch, but this was important, because with Alex secrets tended to be secret for a reason and an awfully good one at that.

"I was broken completely, Jacky." He mumbled, not quite making eye contact with me in an awfully disconcerting manner that only served to grow my concern for the boy. He was hiding something and it was something important.

"Now you're physically sick. You threw up, Alex - you should see a doctor-" My words were stern, but of course, he didn't hesitate in the matter of cutting me off at all.

"I'll be fine." He insisted as his eyes met mine for once. It was a complete and utter lie, but his eyes sold it with a concerning amount of sincerity.

"Get some rest at the very least." I was really worried about him, but there was this nagging sensation that simply none of this added up. And none of it did, leaving me in a rut of concern and heavy brain trauma.

"I'm fine-" He wasn't getting out of this one - I was making sure of that and even if it was only for stubbornness's sake, it was still a valid reason in my head.

"I'll cuddle with you." I persisted, flashing a grin at him and hoping I'd manage to entice him into resting with this. Alex was a hard one to crack, but I knew he had a soft spot for me - that just goes without saying.

"You'll get sick." He had a good point but I didn't care, because I'm a rebel like that. Illness didn't faze me if it meant more cuddles with Alex though; in that case I'd welcome it in fact.

"I don't care." I decided it best to omit the part about the endless cuddling, because Alex would get all stubborn about that.

"You should." Was he really going to be a hypocrite and bitch about my wellbeing now? Jesus Christ, this guy would really be the end of me.

"But I don't, now come on." I grabbed his hand before he could protest and soon enough he was the one dragging me into his room. Or what I assumed to be his room since I'd never seen the place. That only just occurred to me that in my two weeks of being here I'd never even set foot inside his bedroom.

His room was a great deal nicer than mine with painted walls, a mirror and an incredibly fancy bed, not to mention unlimited and unnecessary acres of floor space to do yoga or god knows what in. I kind of didn't want to think as to what someone like Alex would do within his unnecessary bedroom space, but I knew what I did in my unnecessary bedroom space and that shit was doing and I hadn't killed six people.

"You have a nice room." I noted, finding myself in a situation where I was pushing back the fact that this man, my boyfriend, had in fact killed six people. I hated thinking about it with every fibre of my being.

"Yeah, my room's alright." He shrugged it off like he hadn't chained me to the wall in the dark for days on end. I didn't like thinking about that time; things had really been different before we'd fallen in love. 

"C'mon." He tugged on my hand and interrupted my gawping at all the floor space, dragging me to the bed and pulling the covers over us. Part of me still didn't feel one hundred percent comfortable falling asleep in a bed with Alex Gaskarth, but I knew that experience was past us now... even if it had happened twice, it wouldn't be happening again.

"You focus on getting better, okay?" I looked at him behind glazed over eyes, appreciating just how soft his sheets were, and soon I'd be focusing on just how soft his skin was, because despite the fact that he'd vomited twenty minutes prior, he was still fucking adorable.

"Mmm..." He paid little attention to my words and pulled me closer to his chest so I could feel the rise and fall of his chest against mine as he breathed. I liked the feeling of him breathing against me, it gave me something to hold onto, something to remind me just how special he was.

"I'm worried about you." I said into the silence. I was almost certain he'd drifted off by now, but I was proven wrong when he responded with an incoherent mumble. "You mean a lot to me Alex. I don't want to lose you." I reassured him, rubbing circles into his back with my two fingers.

"Don't worry - you won't." He couldn't be sure, but he still he tried to comfort me with placid words and that seemed to matter more than anything. I was still unsure on the fact as to whether these 'placid' words of his were nothing but bullshit painted brightly with a different label slapped on top.

"How can you be sure?" I had ask, didn't I? I did of course run the very real and very scary risk of pissing him off and fucking everything up again but with Alex, I had to be sure. It was essential.

"Just trust me: I'd do anything for you, Jacky." I pondered over that for a few moments, wondering whether or not he really meant that, because quite honestly it scared me if things really were that way, "anything." He emphasised into the silence. Fuck, he did sound like he really did mean it.

"What's changed?" I asked, knowing I shouldn't but curiosity soon bettering me. "What's changed from when you'd chain me to a wall for days and treat me like your little sex doll?" I spat the words with a little too much venom and I think it was simply because I had really grown to hate those times.

"I fell in love with you, Jacky." I hated how he said it all too casually, because it wasn't a goddamn casual thing, it was the most meaningful three words you could ever say to someone and he was just trying them like nothing but mindless flattery. "You know that." I wasn't sure if I did anymore.

"You say it like you don't mean it." I threw my words about with little regard for his emotions and far too much for mine. But I was selfish like that and humans are allowed to be. We're allowed to be as goddamn selfish as we want because it's simply how we're made.

"I do, Jacky. I do." His words were sincere, but our eyes didn't meet, and that's when I knew he was lying. He had to be lying, of course he was lying. There was simply no other explanation in the whole goddamn world; he was just a mess, a filthy fucking liar. But I was a mess too, and somehow we clicked.

"Then look me in the eye and say it." I was getting pissed over what felt like nothing now, but this mattered to me so much more than it did to him. This mattered to me, because I had the capacity for emotions, until his redundant, cold empty shell that I had grown to both love and hate.

So he did, he met my eyes and the words tumbled out. "I love you."

"Do you or are you just a good liar?" I was taking the piss now and I knew it as a smirk rode over my lips. I couldn't help but wind him up though; it was simply within my nature and I was in love with him, I was allowed to.

"Oh shut up, Jacky." He noticed my smirk and let out a giggle, grabbing me by the hips and pushing our lips together. It wasn't a quick kiss by any means, our mouths moving in sync for several minutes, before I finally pulled away, my face laden with a devilish smirk.

"You'll infect me with your sickness by kissing me." I warned him of health risks without a care. I could be his nurse or something - I think he'd really like that. Even just for the possibility of seeing me in a nurse's outfit.

"No I think you cured me, Jacky." He whispered, playing with my hair. I couldn't help but giggle to myself, despite the blatant lies and fakery.

"That's sweet and all, but utter bullshit." I let him know that I didn’t believe a word of this. Maybe it was just to piss him off. I didn't know exactly why, but that sounded about right.

"Way to ruin the mood, huh?" He giggled, simply pulling me closer to his cheeks, his fingers refusing to leave the knotted locks of my chocolate brown hair.

"What mood? The only mood is the one you're in." That was a little harsh, but it was all in good spirit, of course, as was everything I seemed to say to him these days.

"Now that's just mean." He pulled me closer to his chest yet again and I was forced to have his respiratory system and general breathing sounds pushed right up against my ear canal. Listening to him breathe was nice, but not quite like this.

"Is it really now?" I murmured into his chest, my words resonating in a way that they almost came out like a purr. It was definitely a little more seductive than I had intended, but not a cell within either of our bodies seemed to give the slightest hint of a damn.

"Maybe I should teach you a lesson." He began to nibble on my ear and I shuddered into him a little, not expecting the gesture that was all. He wasn't going to get away with seducing me into agreeing with him.

I smirked to myself, pulling away maybe only just to piss him off. "Maybe you should get some rest." I eyed his utterly pissed off and borderline murderous expression up and down. "You look tired." I pretended to note, simply basking in the glare he sent in my direction.

"Jacky-" He began, most likely about to spur into a five hour long speech regarding sarcasm and how much of a pissy little bitch I was. Which, admittedly I was, but that didn't mean I was in anymore of a mood to hear it.

"I'll leave." I wouldn't but he seemed to believe me, which really did have its advantages. I liked twisting Alex to my own will, because despite his demeanour, influencing the guy was fucking easy as soon as you got the hang of it.

"Hmmph." He groaned, clearly irritated by my obnoxiously empty threat. He just didn't quite see the obnoxious part though.

"Fine." He turned away from me like a toddler throwing a tantrum, because the guy was immature as fuck and there really was no way whatsoever around that.

"You love me really."

"Sure about that?" I didn't answer and he didn't turn around.

-

Alex. Day Fourteen - 23:14

I was almost amazed at how quickly Jack had fallen asleep, but I left it twenty minutes just to be safe; I didn't want him discovering what I was going to, regardless if he could very little about it he'd still think differently of me and I didn't want that at all.

I got out of bed the best I could without disturbing his sleeping figure, putting the covers back into place around his sleeping form.

I regretted being so snappy to him earlier, but I kind of didn't expect him to react in that manner, but with humans, especially Jack, their emotions run wild and the thing with Jack's is that his are awfully unpredictable and it was going to end up breaking this whole world apart.

I let the door click shut behind me and hesitated a moment, thoughts running through my head regarding the effects of my next action, but I pushed them aside; the safety of my actions overthrowing Jack's emotions.

I hatched a plan as I made my way into the storage cabinet I tried to pry the smirk from my lips, but it didn't work, it didn't work at all.

I loved how casually I called it the 'storage cabinet' as if it was the pantry or something and didn't contain seventeen guns, pistols, revolvers and shotguns, drugs beyond the stash of a club dealer's and enough weapons to make airport security shit their pants. It was devilish and it made me grin like nothing other. And of course, the room also contained the essentials such as endless coils of rope, ski masks, handcuffs and the like.

Flicking the light on, I grabbed a white board marker and began to plan this whole ordeal out, because I wasn't just a killer, I was an organised one and organisation was precisely why I'd never been caught.

I scribbled the words 'the girl from work' at the top of the bottom in place of her name, which I didn't know. For god knows what reason, maybe she was trying to flirt with me, she didn't tell me. If she was trying to flirt, I'd like to inform her that she was fucking shit at it.

I was planning upon inviting her over for dinner or something and it was clear she liked me so I'd make it seem like it was a date or something, which then gave me an excuse to get closer to her. I could drug her wine - she looked tipsy enough to drink. I'd only sedate her originally, because poison would kill her off before the fun began.

I'd take her sedated body and carry it into Jack's old room and chain her up against the wall. I'd play with her life for a day or two, fussing and cutting away at her skin and life force until I'd finally end it. Maybe we'd play the knife game; I'd love to see how she fared in that field of industrial violence.

It'd be entertaining to say the least. She wouldn't be as good as Jacky, that's for certain.

The way she finally died would have to be spectacular; I'd have to put on a real show. Make this all worth our while. She wouldn't want to die simply; maybe I'd pump toxic gas into the room and watch as she suffocated- no! Hallucinogenic would be all the more interesting. I'd love to bring out the devilish part of her head and then watch as it killed her.

As the gas eventually choked her out, I'd come in and fire the final shot, before burning the body and leaving the authorities to not find it.

I'd just have to make sure she didn't have time to tell anyone she was coming on this date - make it a spur of the moment thing, make sure no one sees us leave together and that she doesn't know my name until she's in my house.

I'll ask her to help me out and work late, and leave with everyone else, saying I'd forgotten something only to come back when the building was empty to get on with a little work, before offering to take her to my place for dinner, because 'she must hungry / tired'. Now that'd work brilliantly.

Then I'd have an alibi from several people and if no one except her knew that I was staying with her then they'd suspect that the killer got in through the building once we'd all gone. It was brilliant, so fucking brilliant it make me smirk deviously.

The police didn't scare me despite the constant news reports on Jack and how they had very little about him and they were calling everyone to come forward. Jack was a brilliant target because he had no one to tell he was leaving and no one knew who I was at the party. No one even saw the two of us leave together. It was fucking brilliant and I wondered if her murder could top that.

I'd have to get her name first. I wanted her name, because I liked to be able to write it in big bold lettering a top my whiteboard and smirk stupidly at it whenever I walked past. I was an arrogant soul, but that didn't matter because my blood was pumping so fast simply from the thrill of knowing that I was going to kill again.

I think possibly the best part was that she hadn't a clue whatsoever and that she'd never see this coming and I'd bask in the look in her eyes as I drew the life from her. As she took her final breath and she struggled for one final heartbeat before the bullet nested itself deep within her flesh.

I was going to kill her and no one could stop me.

-

Jack. Day Fifteen - 7:26

"Where the fuck did you go last night?" Alex wandered into the kitchen like nothing had happened, his face complete with a smirk and all. In fact, he looked particularly proud of himself and that was just fucking ridiculous. I hoped that ego killed him some day- well, not exactly, seeing as I was awfully dependent upon him, ego and all.

"None of your business." Of course, being Alex and with that ego intact, he passed it off like it was nothing, stumbling into the kitchen in a clearly terribly sleep deprived state, which in turn led me to worry about him further. He looked as if the moment I fell asleep he'd left entirely, and left to do what? That part was really the bit that worried me.

Alex was irrational beyond belief and possibly even a little insane at times, but don't we all enjoy a little dip within the realms of insanity? The thing is, Alex's insanity spanned further than spewing random crap at various intervals, eating root vegetables in awkward situations, or even not bringing a banana to a party.

Alex's insanity was the kind of insanity that caused him to believe in angels; things that weren't even there. He heard their voices and I was really kind of scared as to what they were saying to him, or well what he thought they were saying to him, because whatever they were saying had somehow influenced him to press the barrel of a gun to his temples and rest his index finger over the trigger.

Then, there was also the fact that Alex had killed people. Real, living, breathing, thinking, feeling, people. People with families and lives, and lovers and friends - people who'd be missed. I think that was maybe why he hadn't killed me.

It was easy to overlook the fact that Alex had kidnapped me, because never before had I felt so important to anyone. He needed me; he kept me alive for a reason. He loved me. He was going to kill me, but he didn't and the only reason he didn't was because of who I am.

He appreciated me, and the fact that I'm living, eating, sleeping with, and kissing a killer seems irrelevant. Because he doesn't seem like some psychopath who's killed six people; he seems like Alex Gaskarth, my boyfriend, with the cute smile and the dark brown eyes.

Before, back at home with my parents and my brother, I'd always felt so alone. I didn't matter then, I didn't matter to anyone back home, and it seems drastic, but I think that maybe I'd even go as far as to say that Alex practically did them all a favour by getting rid of me, taking me off their hands. At first things, things weren't great - I'm not going to lie by any means, but now things are perfect.

As odd as it sounds, Alex Gaskarth practically saved my life. And how did he achieve that? By wanting to kill me. He didn't succeed though, and that was the key point here.

"Yeah, actually it kind of is my business, considering that I'm worried about you." I protested, breaking out of my thoughts after what felt like hours spent daydreaming, whereas in reality, barely a few seconds had passed. Time really did work in weird ways, but it's all a matter of consciousness, I guess.

"You don't have to be worried about me - that's your stupid decision so this consequence is all your fault." He pushed past me, getting into the main area of the kitchen to get some food, or maybe just so he didn't have to look at me. I went for the former, because it didn't hurt as much.

He mumbled something incoherently under his breath, grabbing a piece of bread and shoving it straight into the toaster, cranking the thing up to a heat that would surely cause the toast to burn. I didn't dare ask him as to what he'd said because for one I was scared of how he'd react to my question, and even more scared as to what the answer could possibly entail.

"I want to be worried about you though." I persisted in foolishness. I really did care far too much about Alex, but I'd never truly loved someone before and maybe, just maybe this somehow was all a good thing, because Alex had somehow managed to make everything better, but not in the most conventional of ways, of course.

"I know." He remained emotionless as his words spilled out in a monotone voice that gave nothing away as to how he felt inside. I hated how good Alex was at shrinking into an empty shell of nothingness and painting his face over with a grey expression that held absolutely no value or gave anything away at all.

"You don't care that I even slightly care about you, do you?" He shook his head and I let out a sigh, simply knowing that I just wasn't going to win this one. Alex was far too good on the battlefield of emotional warfare. It wasn't worth it in the long run either; he was just in a mood and I'd end up saying something that I'd really come to regret.

"What were you doing last night? Please, I just want to know." I begged for one final time. I even pulled on the puppy dog eyes like the pathetic little shit I was. It wasn't going to work, I knew that. But I had this stupid and almost miraculous at times, supply of optimism, that never ever seemed to deplete.

"Just stuff." He shrugged it off as if the entirety of our argument had stemmed from a simple overreaction on my part, but things just weren't like that. He retrieved his mildly blackened toast, grabbing the butter and attempting to cover up the burnt parts with thick layers of the yellow dairy product.

"That much butter is going to give you a heart attack just from that piece of toast." I made a disgusted face; butter kind of grossed me out, especially in excess.

"I'll be fine." He shrugged it off and I watched as he shoved about seven hundred cows' worth of dairy into his system at once. It was kind of unnerving to watch actually, but I shrugged it off after a second - he was trying to distract me, most likely.

"So this stuff you were just doing last night-" I didn't even try to approach the subject discreetly, I just leapt right into the subject of conversation within seconds, gaining nothing more than a raised eyebrow and a disgruntled expression shot in my direction.

"It's not important." He protested, but I wasn't buying it, simply meeting him with a wary gaze. It was without a doubt, very important, especially if it needed to be done in the ungodly hours of the night - then it was most definitely important.

"If it's not important, then why did you need to do it at midnight instead of waiting until morning?" I had a good point and it was made clear by his groan. I'd caught him red-handed amidst the bloody mess of his entangled and corrupted, and pretty much downright shitty attempt at lying. Alex was usually a good liar, so this suggested that in fact, he was barely even trying.

"I couldn't sleep." He shrugged off yet another pathetic lie, considering his droopy and kind of just pathetic state, he was probably just excruciatingly tired, especially if he'd been sick yesterday and hadn't gotten any sleep either, despite my accentuated protests. Alex just didn't look after himself; he excelled at everything else, except treating himself right.

"I know you're lying, Alex. I know it was important - just tell me." He sighed, shaking his head far too firmly. I was beginning to get a little scared now and the thought crossed my mind that maybe, I might not particularly want to know what he'd done last night. Perhaps, for once, it was a secret and actually for a genuinely good reason.

"I was thinking about things." He said into nothingness, his words gasping out with an exhalation. His eyes drifted downwards, not quite meeting mine, and there was that sad look in his eyes; that look that caused them to stop twinkling - that look I hated more than the whole damn world and everything bad in it. But at least I knew that now, now he was telling the truth.

"What things?" I breathed out, unintentionally mimicking his tone.

"Just things." Alex never let much on really. Alex was elusive and most of the time, it was for a good reason, but I could just tell that this time it was important, and by the look in his eyes, I was guessing that maybe it kind of hurt for him not to be able to tell me.

"Yeah, things - we've covered that already." I rolled my eyes at him.

"Just things... important things, yeah, to me, but not to you - you don't need to know." I wasn't quite so sure about that. I wasn't sure at all - in fact, I was sure that he wasn't right. Not that he was lying per se, just that he was unfortunately very mistaken.

"Were you thinking about... like when you wanted to shoot yourself?" The words hurt to get out, but it was necessary regardless as to whether or not I was brave enough to bring forth the elephant in the room. Bravery was irrelevant. Bravery was a matter of life or death. No one's ever said they weren't brave enough to dodge the bullet, were they?

"I find it amusing how you feel obliged to use past tense." Those were the words that came at me out of nowhere; the words that hit me like a bombshell, like a knife in the dark - something I didn't expect, something I'd never expect.

"Alex-" My jaw just dropped like a bomb, every else slowly down, capturing this moment as I watched his lips move as he pulled his bottom lip inwards, pushing it down upon his bottom incisors with his top two teeth and nibbling on it a little. "You don't?"

"I'm not sure, Jacky. I don't know if it's the angels messing with my head or whether it's you." He confessed, his words doing nothing short of breaking my heart and my mind was so corrupted with panic and insanity that it even dared to imagine as to whether that could have possibly been his original intent.

"Why would I mess with your head, Lex?" I met his eyes and he just shrugged it off as if it was nothing, which it really wasn't. This was everything and I hated that more than anything, because this shouldn't be a matter of importance, in fact, this shouldn't even be a matter at all, but life doesn't quite work out like that.

"I love you." I mumbled into the silence, letting the words sinking in like a blob of ink slowly increasing in size until it had eventually consumed the whole page. Except this wasn't ink on a page, this was three little words and an empty head like a prison cell.

"I know, I know." He sighed, drawing in breath, almost as if he didn't want to believe my words, or possibly even his own. He just looked terribly conflicted and it did nothing short of breaking my heart; a constant tugging on the strings struggling to palpitate to any sustainable rhythm.

"But why would the angels mess with my head? They're holy beings sent by God."

I sighed, hating how these 'angels' had fucked him up. He'd definitely gotten worse since we'd gotten close, making it my fault. Or maybe this had been there all along but only now did I know him or did he trust me well enough to let me notice. "Look at it this way. Am I real, Alex?"

"What?" He shot me a look of utter confusion, which I could understand, because admittedly, my question made very little sense whatsoever. In fact, it was utter nonsense. But pre-planned, organisation, fussed with, nonsense. Nonsense constructed in an entirely non-nonsensical manner.

"Just answer the question - am I real?"

"Yeah..." The word trailed from his lips with uncertainty, almost as if he suspected this to be a trick question or something. It wasn't a trick question though, despite its under trustful appearances, it was just a nonsensical one.

"You're sure I'm real?" I let his words consolidate within his head, knowing he'd need to remember this a few moments later and just right now I couldn't tell him why, because that would simply bias his judgement and leave us right back where we started, which really wasn't productive at all.

"Yeah, but don't go disappearing on me or something." He chuckled a little, but I could see the nervous expression camouflaged behind his laughter.

He was scared that I'd give up on him. I was shocked to be honest, because in my mind, it really was the opposite way around, and I guess this just left us in an unexpected state of co-dependency, which could be interpreted with both pros and cons, depending as to quite how you looked at it.

"I won't, I promise." I met his gaze and he nodded, seemingly convinced by my sincere words. "Are the angels real?" I asked him, cringing as I awaited his response. I hated how this nonsensicality corrupted his mind, bending his sense of reality to the most uncanny of perspectives.

It was sickening to watch as he slowly began to descend into insanity and as he pushed my prying eyes away, attempting to prevent it by simply ignoring its existence, but things didn't work like that - not at all.

"Yeah..." He stopped for a moment, stumbling over his words and thinking over them a little, "I- I-... yeah, I think so." He finally stuttered out, but he still didn't quite sound entirely certain, which I guessed was just a little promising at the very least.

"You think so?" I emphasised the word 'think', trying to put across the fact that well, none of this was factual in anyway whatsoever. Alex didn't quite get my hint and resorted to just nodding. "But you don't know?" I tried again, stressing my point the best I could.

"No, I mean, I've never seen them for real - I hear them, but..."

"So you're uncertain?" I continued, hoping that he got my point eventually. He was a bright guy though, so it actually seemed a little like he was almost avoiding it, which was a perplexing concept entirely.

Maybe he was scared of the truth, or maybe just acceptance that he was in fact hearing voices that weren't there, seeing as that was one of the main signs of insanity and Alex had this ego thing where he liked to consider himself as quite possibly the sanest person out there, which unfortunately was far from the truth right now.

"Well... yeah, uhh... no... I guess? Fuck, I'm uncertain." He exclaimed, finally grasping onto my point by the looks of it. Whether he actually wanted to or not was really a different matter entirely, and judging by his awkwardly shifting expression I guessed that he wasn't really quite so keen on this acceptance.

"So that means that I'm more real than the angels. You're sure I'm one hundred percent real, but with the angels you're only about fifty percent sure?" I ran through it, hoping to get this into his head properly, but unsure as to quite how much success I'd have within my endeavour.

"Something like that, but I still don't get your point in all of this."

"So if you believe the angels and you're wrong, you only have a fifty percent chance of upsetting them, but if you believe me and you're wrong you will upset me. Meaning, it's in your favour to believe me." It was a selfish point, well it kind of sounded like one, but it was the truth this time, even if Alex was struggling to grasp that.

"Uhh..."

"Why would I lie to you, Alex? You don't even know the angels - you don't know how good liars they are, do you?" I pushed my words further in what felt like a terribly deceitful manner, my insides twisting a little inside. "You know me. You don't know them."

"True..." He mumbled, his words aimed at the floor as opposed to my ears, "yeah, you're right - I just don't want to upset the angels, I'm scared of them, I guess."

"If the angels want you to kill yourself then that's bad advice and you shouldn't listen to bad advice." I began to believe that maybe, just maybe I was going to convince Alex and that I was going to win this one and he wouldn't go clinically insane and things would all be alright, but- But, things don't quite work like that, not at all.

"But they're from god, and god knows what's right for all of us doesn't he? So it's not for us to decide whether it's bad advice or not." I never put Alex down as the Christian type, but I didn't think it was actual faith and more of self-imposed fear pushed onto a set of very off set morals that was slowly crushing and dragging his soul right down to hell itself.

"Alex, let me tell you something - I don't believe in God." He seemed astounded at my confession, almost as if I admitted to being a brony or something, but really I'd never quite confess to something that level of drastic.

"You don't think God's... real?" His eyes widened almost as if he needed to take in my confession.

"No, no I don't." I assured him, watching his reaction carefully.

"Oh." He paused, drawing in breath, still entirely confused by the looks of things. I hated this blind faith - it didn't suit him. He was Alex Gaskarth; he killed six people because he wanted to and not because some stuck up man with a beard up there told him to.

"Why not?" He asked, and I allowed myself to left out yet another pathetic sigh.

"Have you ever seen God?" He shook his head.

"Have you ever heard God?" He shook his head.

"Have you got anything other than simple belief that tells you God's real?" He shook his head once more.

"He's... he..." He stumbled over his words, his eyes widening further. "The angels?"

"I'd believe someone I know is real over someone I only vaguely believe in this existence of. And I certainly wouldn't take his advice."

"If God isn't real, then who do the angels belong to?" His voice came out in a tone barely louder than a whisper, almost scared that someone or something might hear him. I assumed it was the angels.

Did he think they were there with him right now? Did he think they were listening in to every word that left my mouth? That scared me so much; not because I believed in them, of course, because I most certainly didn't, but because to imagining having something like that to worry about at all times must really break a person.

"I don't know, Alex." I sighed, because he was far too stubborn in his belief of the figments of his imagination that just happened to have wings. I wished he could just let it go with a snap of his fingers, but Alex didn't quite work like that, not at all.

"Fuck-" He ran over to the sink and I watched as he threw up for the second time.

"Alex, are you okay?" It was a stupid question, but what else could I ask. I wondered if it was the realisation, the angels, or maybe, just maybe he was genuinely sick. Perhaps the cause of his nausea could simply be his lack of sleep.

"No." He inhaled what seemed like all the air in the room, catching his breath against the kitchen side.

"You should see a doctor-" I butted in with a statement that I knew I'd grow to regret.

"Fuck off." He yelled, his words raspy and raw, his vocal chords mutating by the sounds of his voice. "What would you know? You're just a stupid little slut that isn't even good for sex." I too wanted to be sick.

"A-Alex. You don't mean that..." I began to shake, almost scared of my boyfriend now. It was a horrible situation to be in, but unfortunately with Alex, one that had happened before.

"Yes I do - you're pathetic." He rolled his eyes at me, snorting a little at my existence. "I just don't know why I've kept you alive this long."

"A-Alex-x..." I was on the brink of crying now and that was something that I doubt would go down awfully well, considering Alex's attitude towards any sign of weakness whatsoever. It was stupid how he could bring me from anti-religious preacher to emotional thirteen year old girl wreck.

"I'm going to work." He announced, pulling his tie on and heading towards the door as if he hadn't just caused the tears to spill onto my cheeks like blood onto white walls.

"You just threw up- you can't, you can't..." I began to protest, but he didn't have the ears for my words.

"I do what I want, slut."

And then, Alex did about the worst thing he could possibly have done; he left me alone. But he didn't just leave me alone, he left himself alone too.

-

Alex. Day Fifteen - 10:45

"The printer's jammed again." She was leaned up against the goddamn thing, her mug of coffee rested upon the top of it as she gave the Lexmark a disapproving glance.

"I can see that." The coffee girl bit her red lips as she subdued what appeared to be the urge not to punch me. It was a shame, because really I'd love her to punch me, because she really doesn't have a clue what I have in store for her at all.

I'm not going to kill her today, not for a while yet anyway. I need to gain her further trust and her name. She seems awfully protective over her name and I'm still not quite sure as to why. She probably thinks she's flirting with me - she's not doing a very good job.

"Yes, I am aware of the fact that you have eyes." She replied in an equally sarcastic tone.

"Thank you for your observation - I really do appreciate it." She sighed, giving the printer a shove, before abandoning it completely.

"What's got you in such a mood today?"

"Just the usual." I shrugged it off - my slut for a boyfriend's constant persistence in filling my head with bullshit was a particularly dull topic and quite frankly none of her business.

"Nah, you're an ass, but not this much of an ass."

"My b- friend, uhh... he kept pestering me about shit this morning." I was going to say boyfriend, but for one I wasn't even sure if we were together anymore after what I'd said to him this morning. He has a habit of getting far too touchy about that kind of shit.

Also, it was clear she liked me, so it'd be easier to get her over at mine if I continued to lead her on, despite how fucking repulsive she was.

"What kind of shit?" Did she ever stop asking questions?

"He was just asking why I got up in the middle of the night - it wasn't important, I just couldn't sleep and he won't believe me." Okay, I was lying, but I couldn't just tell her that I was actually spending last night plotting her murder. She wouldn't take that particularly well for sure.

"He was probably just worried about you." She of course would side with him. Everyone would side with him because he was such a fucking victim.

"I never asked him to be."

"That's what friends do, though." Friends. I hated that term. I hated it to hell. I hated the whole goddamn world, coming to think of it.

I shrugged, "yeah, I guess. He just cares too much. He never shuts up."

"Yeah, I have a friend like that, except she doesn't care about me, just herself." I had to chuckle at that one.

"Why's she even your friend?" She shrugged.

"Why's this guy your friend?"

Because I'm in love with him.

"We just kind of stuck together really - it was accidental; I don't know to be honest."

"Friendships are like that, I guess."

"Yeah." I agreed, sighing. "I really do hate him though."

She giggled and I watched the way he eyes caught the single light bulb of the printing room and suddenly I just couldn't stop myself from pinning her back against the printer, and.... kissing her.

Our lips met and she didn't hesitate in going all out, her tongue slithering between my lips and traversing my mouth. She was a better slut than Jack - perhaps I deserved an upgrade?

"What was that for?" She let out a giggle as I pulled away.

To spite Jack.

"I don't want to go back to filing just yet."

She nodded, "me neither. Maybe we should kiss again?"

I couldn't even reply before her lips were on mine once again.

"You're a better kisser than him." I didn't realise just what I'd said as soon the words left my lips.

"You kissed your friend?" Her eyebrows rose at that.

"It was a dare, at a party." I lied. The only partying that had occurred between Jack and I was when I kidnapped him from his brother's, but it wasn't as if I was just going to tell her that at all.

"He was probably drunk though, and you can't judge sober kissing against drunk kissing."

"Hmm..." I shrugged, not quite getting her point.

"Maybe you should invite me over for drinks some time and then I'll show you my drunken kissing skills. I'll see if I can top him then."

I grinned the biggest grin to ever grace my face, because she was just asking for this; her own death playing right into her hands. It was almost as if she wanted to die, almost as if she was asking me to end that life of hers.

Part of me was only quite so keen upon that idea simply just to chop that pretty little head of hers right off, but no that was far too messy.

A gun was the way to go, I concluded.

She was entertaining for the time being, giving me something to kiss and possibly even fuck, but she meant nothing to me in the way Jack did, even if he was an asshole, he was just my asshole and I knew that things were going to stay that way.

Because, no matter how hard I wanted to kill Jack, no matter how hard I tried to put a gun against his temples, I just couldn't, because I didn't want Jack to die, not really.

-

Alex. Day Sixteen - 4:23

My head is no longer on my shoulders and the whole world's been attached to a precarious and dodgy carousel. I feel drunk; I think maybe I am drunk, but I don't remember any alcohol. In fact, I don't remember anything.

I just remember how red is my favourite colour and how blue goes well with red to make purple. But this isn't an art class; this is a lesson in swallowing an entire bottle and it's rather apparent that I've passed with flying colours. Two flying colours; blue and red - to make purple. Purple is a pretty colour, isn't it? It reminds me of Jack, though, because Jack is pretty and I can't think about Jack now.

I need to get rid of the purple; to get rid of Jack. I take yellow. It's a horrible brown colour, one that reminds me of nothing but the end but I'm certain that's all that I need now.

The first one is weird. Bitter and flaky - it almost feels off, but I swallow the goddamn thing dry to spite my cold feet. And then comes the second; the second is easier, and so is the third, and the fourth, and by the time the bottle is half empty I feel like I'm eating a packet of skittles and not a mysterious bottle of unnamed yellow pills.

The empty bottle slips between my fingers and lands on the floor with a satisfyingly loud pop. I need to feel something; I think I've taken sleeping pills, because I'm so drowsy that my limbs want to slowly draft away from my body like particles in space.

I take a fourth type - I take the white ones. I know these ones keep you alert, by the fact that I have never used them in kidnapping someone before. I pour the entirety of the 100g bottle onto my tongue without thought. I stop myself from regretting my decision, even when my tongue metaphorically ignites itself and silently begs to be chopped off. I inhale one deep, final breath and push my tongue back, sending the dozens of capsules down the back of my throat.

And then I can't breathe, and it's not even a momentary thing. My windpipe is slowly closing in upon itself as if a tidal wave of salt water slithered down my throat, the salt eroding the fleshy walls and the water drowning whatever little supply of oxygen is left within my lungs.

I take deep breaths; I can get rid of carbon dioxide easily, without a second thought, and rather ironically, like breathing. But the oxygen won't come in; just more salt water, and the dryness on the back of my tongue.

I need to breathe.

Despite what this looks like... it isn't a suicide attempt, merely a home surgery with the medicine that lives in little coloured coded bottles. And despite what Jack thinks, I don't want to die. I just want this weak side of me to die, and it's a stubborn side, so it looks like it really is dragging me down with it.

I can't stop it now; I'm helpless, of course. It's pathetic, of course. Everything's obvious, of course. I'm going to die, of course.

I find myself letting out a breathless chuckle, because somehow this situation is managing to amuse my sadistic sense of humour.

I'm going to die.

It's funny, because God did finally outwit me at the last moment; I guess that I'm not so naively clever after all.

Aren't we all just amusing, though? This sentience... it means nothing; it's like the breeze on a winter morning. People fantasize and over romanticise the hell out of it, but we could live without it a heartbeat, and a lot of the time we do indeed go without it, but we're all too naïve and stuck up to notice. And the ones who know, are far too stubborn, far too pretentious, to even fathom letting the thought of pointing out the obvious mistake.

I know I'm going to die, so I make a scene out of it. I go out with a bang, and I grab a box of matches, some green pills, and the can of gasoline I keep under the kitchen sink.

I unscrew the lid of the gasoline can and through the liquid across the walls, the kitchen, furniture, everything and as it's dripping down from the ceiling like some sort of methane rainstorm, I look at the few millimetres of liquid left in the can and I don't even think before pouring it over myself.

I grin with the insanity inside of me, which is only worsened by the pungent gasoline fumes. I feel alive, even in my dying moments; I want to be a sparkler, and a stubborn one like that - a sparkler that wants to be the king of the firework show.

I swallow the green pills next; I swallow them to fast to put a name to the taste. My head's spinning immediately from a combination of mismatched and unprescribed medication and a whole gas station work of gasoline fumes.

I grab the matches in my last remaining seconds of consciousness. I strike one into flame, looking at the pretty little sparked wonder in my last few conscious seconds, my eyelids drooping down as I let out a strangely peaceful sigh.

I was strangely happy, even as my knees let out, my legs too, my bottling toppling onto a gasoline flooded floor, my head colliding brutally with the marble tiling, pulling me away for good.

And as a trail of blood leaks from my cranium, the match tumbles from my relaxed grip, landing centimetres away, amidst a clot of gasoline.

And then nothing smells of gasoline anymore, then everything smells of burning, of singeing, of roaring flames, of tunnels of smoke, and choking ashes - it smells of fire. And then, before I can even respond, I can't smell anything at all.

Good night.

-

Jack. Day Sixteen - 5:01

I found myself waking up far too early and hating it entirely. Glancing over at the red LED numbers on my unset alarm clock, I made out the faint figures that signalled the time being far too early. Five am was barely even morning in my books, let alone a suitable time to wake up at, but some people came from corners of insanity that I couldn't just comprehend.

I shrugged it off, pushing me eyes shut again and willing myself back to sleep, but try as I might, I just couldn't; my stomach couldn't settle and I couldn't pinpoint it for the life of me, but something just didn't seem right. Then again, this whole ordeal with Alex must have fucked up my nervous system, leading me to find suspicion and panic in just about everything on this goddamn earth.

I sighed, hating my sleeplessness at times, and sat up, turning on the light, to see my laptop curled up to me, burning away its little processor unnecessarily for hours on end. I opened it up, seeing that I had fallen asleep as I was talking to Cassadee. I kind of felt guilty at first, but I shrugged it off - she was nice, she'd understand, and anyway, my beauty sleep was important. Being a girl she'd understand that shit, wouldn't she? Or at least I damn well hoped so, because it was five am.

I saw that there was one unread message; she was probably asleep now, so I didn't want to wake her with the notification sound of a reply, but I read the message nonetheless. I'd reply to it at seven. Well, actually I'd probably forget so maybe it was better to do so now, but I didn't want to take my chances with waking up and potentially pissing off and upsetting my only friend besides Alex, my only friend outside of this house.

Although, I had grown accustomed to not particularly minding being with Alex, in Alex's house 24/7, the last two weeks had been kind of weird, kind of lonely and almost insanity spawning, but Cassadee definitely helped. Cassadee just brought hope into my life in a little beacon of laptop screen light of sanity.

It wasn't conventional to say the least, but actually none of this was conventional - what was conventional about the fact that your boyfriend was originally your kidnapper and could have quite possibly been your murderer? Yeah...

I found myself thinking about Joe, wondering as to when he would have even noticed that his little brother was missing. Maybe he still hadn't. Maybe he'd assumed that I just fucked off elsewhere and that I hadn't been kidnapped and nearly murdered. But none of that mattered anymore; he didn't matter - Alex mattered and I was sure that Alex and Alex alone was all I needed to keep me sane.

I opened up the last message she'd sent me, which was at roughly one am. I was nervous to see whether she'd be pissed at me for not replying, but I doubted she would have because Cass is generally a nice girl, but you never know because some people really do turn into monsters at night. Or maybe the monsters from under the bed just crawl out and take them over.

Cassadee: Lisa is a total bitch though, you're lucky that your best friend isn't anything like her. She's going on about how she got it on with some guy today, and she doesn't even care what I have to say, that I kissed this pretty sweet dude, but no she doesn't care, because she's selfish and she cares about her fucked up little make out session. I hate her sometimes, dear god.

I had to chuckle a little at that. I was clueless when it came to girl drama, but anyone could put two and two together and figure out that this Lisa was a total bitch and really I was awfully lucky to have Alex, even if he had insisted upon sleeping in his own room tonight. I found it suspicious, but whatever. Alex was just acting weird lately in all.

I mean weirder than normal of course... he just kind of seemed distant when usually he couldn't keep his hands off of me in any, every and whatever way he say fit at that certain time. I didn't mind now, because there was this little matter that I found myself entirely in love with Alex Gaskarth. It was bittersweet, and addictive, and downright deadly down to the fucking literal meaning.

As I went to check my other emails, I noticed a word document on the desktop that I definitely hadn't put there. I squinted at it with curiosity and began to wonder if I had gotten a virus or something - Alex wouldn't be happy with that. Alex would shout for sure and probably take the damn laptop right off me, cutting my contact with Cassadee entirely.

I couldn't even explain to her what happened - we'd just never speak again, let alone explain to my sanity how to cope. Alex was special and cute - he meant a lot of me, of course, but you know, Cassadee was like my lifeline, the lighthouse in the dark, and Alex was just another boat being dragged down in the depths with me.

The file was named 'Don't Open Until It's Morning'. I just looked at it in confusion - had I done some semi unconscious late night poetry or something? Even if I had, I doubted I could use an apostrophe correctly with a state of half consciousness.

Then again, I hadn't previously assessed my grammatical ability within a sleep deprived state, so you never know. I could have just made a William Wordsworth masterpiece within the early hours of the morning and I was just about to have my mind blown by the nocturnal artistic genius that I didn't know even resided in me.

Five am was morning anyway, well technically. So I doubled clicked and watched as the mystery file opened in Word, taking far too long to load entirely. Which made me suspect further that this was a virus, currently downloading tons of adware and spyware ready to steal passwords that I didn't have to accounts that I didn't even own. I kind of felt sorry for the spyware.

I was surprised and actually awfully relieved to find the file that opened to be not a virus and nothing more than a normal text file, however that in no way did anything about the possibility that this word file could be infinitely worse.

My eyes were met with barely any text; just a few lines, but it was what lay within those lines that mattered so much more than how many lines there were. That was for certain.

Hey Jacky x

Don't go in the kitchen. Call the number below and just don't go in the kitchen. It's the number a friend - he'll sort everything out.

Alex

Below was a cell number before that I barely managed to scan over before my head was hit with a tidal wave of confusion. I could barely breathe as I tried to string together the typed words into something that made the slightest bit of sense in my head. I read them over again; first in my words and then I imagined the words coming from Alex's lips.

Don't go in the kitchen.

The words hung in my ears as I grabbed my cell phone, dialling the number, punching the digits into the machine in almost slow motion. My whole world felt like it was stopping entirely and all because of one stupid fucking note that was causing my head to spin like crazy and leave me to look at this fucking rut which I'd found myself directly stuck in.

The dialling tone was both entirely too long and both entirely too short. But the inevitable occurred and the dialling static was replaced by the gravelly voice of a man who was rather pissed off in the fact that he'd woken up to take this phone call.

I shouldn't have called - I knew I shouldn't have, but I was shit scared otherwise and I really couldn't just leave this. And if I didn't call, my only other option would be to directly disobey Alex's orders and to go into the kitchen. And fuck knows what I'd find- fuck... had he killed someone?

Was there a corpse lying on our kitchen counters as he chopped it up and possibly put little chunks of it into re-sealable freezer bags- No, Alex wasn't a cannibal. He was sane, or at least as sane as a serial killer could be, which admittedly isn't very sane, but he's Alex. He's different and most of all, I trust him.

"Flyzik speaking. Make it quick - what the fuck do you want?" I found myself shivering at little and simply just at the harshness of his voice. This was not the kind of guy I wanted to have a conversation with by any means.

"Uhh... Uhh... I-Uhh-" I stumbled over my words as I wondered how on earth I could possibly verbalise the situation at hand when I didn't have the slightest clue as to what the fuck was going on myself.

"Listen here, kid, you woke me up at 5am so you better make it fucking worth my time - calls are fucking traceable you know, kid." This guy was not one I ever wanted to come into contact with but considering Alex's apparent acquaintancy with him, I doubted things would go at all in my favourite.

"I uhh... Alex told me to call this number." I pushed out the least insightful piece of drivel I could muster, but one that just about adequately covered the situation, so I guess it'd have to do.

"Gaskarth?" He sounded surprised, as if some dorky loser kid like me could possibly be anyway associated with someone like Alex Gaskarth, but then again things did end up working out weird didn't they?

"Yeah, Alex Gaskarth." I confirmed, the words coming easier now, once he'd stopped yelling at me and was guiding the conversation with the certainly more civilised form of mild interrogation.

"How the fuck does a kid like you know Gaskarth - tell me another one, kid." Well, I guess I spoke too soon.

"He's my boyfriend-"

"I didn't mean literally." My heart deflated like a fucking balloon, but then again, I soon found myself wondering as to why I even cared about this asshole's opinion in the first place.

"Seriously, he left me a note. He said: Don't go in the kitchen. Call the number below and just don't go in the kitchen. It's the number a friend - he'll sort everything out. I called the number."

He sighed, clearly even more pissed off than he'd been previously, which couldn't be good. "Fucking hell, Gaskarth." He muttered to himself. "Have you gone in the kitchen?"

"No." I said truthfully.

"Good - don't." I nodded, despite the fact he couldn't see me - I looked like an idiot, but I stress the point that really there was no one to see me. "What's your name, kid?"

"Jack."

"I'm Matt Flyzik. I'm coming over now - don't bother opening the door - I have a key. I'll sort this shit out, probably slap Gaskarth a little too for being such a bitch- Hey kid, where actually are you?"

"I'm in my bedroom, it's the first on the left upstairs-" I began to explain before his arrogant tone cut me off.

"Yeah, yeah - I know. I'll come get you once I've sorted him out, whatever the fuck he's done now-"

"What do you mean-"

"Gaskarth isn't that mentally okay, you know. He's damn insane; I thought you could have guessed that by now." Those words hurt, because Alex was okay... Alex was getting better at the very least, or so I thought at the very least, but I guess that kind of counts for nothing now.

"Mmm..." I sighed.

"Look, kid - it'll be alright." He sounded as if he was lying, which he probably was. "I'll come get you okay. It won't be long, but kid, remember - do not go in the kitchen."

And then the line went dead.

And those words raced around my head for far too long entirely: Don't go in the kitchen.

And the more they rang through my head, the more I wanted to.

I read his note through once more.

Call the number below and just don't go in the kitchen.

Just don't.

I knew I shouldn't - I damn right knew I should never consider it, and I knew it was a direct order from Alex.

So, I did.

I went in the kitchen and regretted it instantly.

-


	2. Part Two

Day Seventeen. Jack - 5:37

I regretted nothing more than setting foot inside that kitchen.

I regretted nothing more than the sight that came to my eyes.

I regretted nothing more than the ignored words of Flyzik.

I regretted nothing more than simply letting this happen.

But I had, and there was very little I could do now, except look; I couldn't peel my eyes away, in fact. I wished I could have put Flyzik's intimidating demeanour past me and simply listened to what he said, but no I had ended up out here, a witness to this and Alex... and what surrounded him... those where the things I didn't want to think about- not that any of the situation was particularly enticing at all.

Alex... Alex was alive.

But barely and I think that was quite possibly worse, not that I was awfully keen upon finding my dead boyfriend's body in my kitchen, yet this was hardly the best of alternatives.

It was only the shaky rise and fall of his chest that reassured me of this fact, the fact that he was still alive; the rest of the scene led to other implications entirely. He looked like a dead man, but he was just a man who'd brushed fingertips with death himself, and now the two of us had been left to deal with the fallout.

Well, our kitchen - his kitchen, the marble kitchen that was quite frankly exquisite in all architectural forms, not that I was at all experienced in that field; our kitchen was ruined. And in fact that marble was stained and more reminiscent of a crime scene than the place we'd stood and talked less than twenty four hours ago.

It hurt to think that there were no clues, no hints, no warning as to the happening of this event; I'd just been left a warning I did nothing but foolishly avoid, and Alex... laying there, barely Alex anymore.

The stains of crimson against once pearly white marble were painfully obvious, like crayons melted against paper, but this hadn't been a packet of crayons... this had been Alex's skull colliding far too fast and far too hard with cold, unforgiving floor.

As I stepped closer, my breathing rate only increased, my eyes lighting up with nothing short of pure horror as my gaze connected with the pills; empty bottles, and pills on the floor, the medicine cabinet open, with little uncertainty as to where the pills could have gone.

He swallowed pills; lots of pills, well by the looks of things, a hell of a lot of pills. I couldn't connect this together, because it just wasn't the Alex I knew, although when I thought about it, when I pushed throw the facade of placid and content, I realised that this was very much Alex: irrational, stupid, destructive, and psychotic.

My heart was nothing short of broken, because Flyzik was somehow right and Alex just wasn't okay in the head, well not really and it fucking hurt like hell. Just to see him like this shook right through every nerve in my body.

I didn't want to believe that Alex, my boyfriend and my kidnapper wasn't any bit not okay in the head, because I’d been stupid and I'd goddamn stupidly attached to the most dangerous and reckless of people, and now I had nothing but to stand and suffer the consequences.

And I felt guilty; in fact I felt more than guilty, because somehow I just felt downright responsible... like all of this was nothing short of my fault. Because I'd been the one to do this, hadn't I? I wasn't sure as to how, but somehow I had caused this, because there could really be no other explanation to the boy lying in a mess of pills and his own blood on our marble kitchen floor.

I wondered as to how long he'd been like this. He'd have to have saved the file on my laptop after I'd fallen asleep, yet still after having planned this- was this a suicide attempt?

Could it possibly be after how good he'd been doing... well lately... things hadn't been all that 'great' to say the very least, but this was something I didn't quite want to accept... he was reckless but I never imagined that he'd do something quite so drastic, especially when he knew it'd hurt me as much and perhaps more than it hurt him.

Things just didn't quite add up and I hated how I hadn't expected this at all. Everything seemed to be perfect in my eyes, but I guess Alex had other ideas entirely... and now... I guess I got what I deserved as I was left with the aftermath, counting the seconds as I stood paralysed over Alex's body and waited for Flyzik to arrive sooner, because no matter how much I decided I hated the guy, he seemed to be, well by Alex's word, the only guy who could fix the situation.

I wasn't sure as to how a mess like this could possibly be rectified entirely and I was now just stood there praying that Flyzik was secretly a wizard or something else exactly as mind boggling, because right now all I wanted was for everything to be okay again, but life didn't quite like that... it was apparent.

Suddenly, my thought stream was interrupted by the sound of a key turning in the lock; I panicked at first, before slowly relaxing into the fact and the blind certainty that this would be Flyzik, and as I remained in my paralysed state, eyes now fixed upon the door, I just let myself accept that I was well and truly screwed if whoever lay behind the door wasn't Flyzik.

"Kid..." A guy stepped in, shutting the door behind him as he turned his attention towards me, scrutinising me from behind two, narrowed, brown eyes, laced with a stern and skeptical disposition. "I told you not to come in here. He told you not to come in here too."

He had dark brown and eyes of a similar shade that didn't make contact with mine, drifting straight around the room, almost scoping out the place, yet always far from making contact with the floor where Alex was.

I presumed this was Flyzik.

"I know you did. I know he did." I sighed, avoiding having to look at Alex, but somehow, eventually, I had to. And it was horrible; possibly even worse the second time, because now I'd noticed things that I never had before, like the grey tinge to his face as it stoned other, looking devoid of both blood and emotion.

He didn't look alive. He didn't even look real. And that did nothing short of make me sick; the thought made me want to empty the contents of my stomach all over the kitchen floor, but Alex had already made quite the mess and I didn't want to put myself in for more cleaning.

Flyzik walked to my side, almost grasping my shoulder to steady himself as he caught sight of Alex. "Holy shit!" And suddenly Flyzik wasn't quite so intimidating anymore, which really was a perplexing thought entirely.

"Will he make it..?" I threw the question out there that I didn't want to, but it was the question that most definitely had to be asked, regardless of whether I wanted to or not.

Flyzik shrugged, his shoulders moving with half hearted, empty movements that almost made me feel sorry for him, because it was rather clear that this was affecting him too. "Kid, I don't know."

I hit him with an aghast expression, petrified at the thought of being without Alex; the emptiness, the loneliness, the nothingness, and the great big hole in my chest where my heart used to be. Because Flyzik couldn't not know; Flyzik was supposed to know what to do and here I was unable to function because goddamn Alex was going to make it - he'd have to, for my pathetic sake at the very least.

He noticed my response, with widened eyes and a guilty smile stretched across his lower lips. "Let's just be optimistic and assume he will-"

"Should we take him to hospital- are we going to?" I barely managed to push the words out because this all be so weird - I wasn't sure how we'd even manage to carry Alex into a hospital in the state he was in, and what were we supposed to call an ambulance? That was most certainly off limits, because as soon as anyone official walked in, Alex would probably be arrested for several hundreds of charges.

And then again there was also the stupidly forgettable fact that I was actually a missing person, and the authorities were probably looking for me... or at least a stupid attention seeking part of me very much hoped so.

There was also the fact that Flyzik, whoever he was, he was probably wanted by the police to some degree, simply because he was the kind of guy who was kind of closely acquainted with Alex, well close enough for the guy to know where he lives - I doubt serial killers give out information like that particularly easily.

"We'd probably all get arrested for the shit he's taken-" Flyzik was right, and my idea was nothing short of a plain stupid one, but I was desperately holding on to Alex because he couldn't die.

He. Couldn't. Die.

"Doctors have a confidentiality thing for medical reasons." I butted in, hating my pretentious inability to never shut the fuck up as I caught a perfect view of the eye roll that shortly followed. Flyzik wasn't having my shit - we weren't leaving this house, but thinking about it, that was really probably for the best.

"Not with the kind of shit I'm supplying him with-"

"You're his dealer... You're a drug dealer?" Fuck. Alex had a drug dealer - that wasn't something I particularly wanted to think about in detail, but fuck, just fuck. It really didn't seem odd at all considering the kind of person Alex, yet there was something about the whole ordeal that I really just didn't like. It was probably the drug part.

"Kid, I prefer to think of myself as a one man black market. I have everything you could want that the law doesn't like."

"Oh." Alex had some dodgy acquaintances but I wasn't quite sure I expected this of all things there were to expect. I guessed right when I said the police probably wanted Flyzik to some degree, but I didn't account for him being quite this important or big of a criminal, but then again Alex didn't look like the type to put up with novices.

Flyzik stepped forward, crouching beside Alex after what seemed like far too long, and firmly gripping his chest. "The heart's functioning... irrationally, but at less some blood is getting somewhere."

"That's good... right?" I joined him beside Alex, glancing over my boyfriend's limp body, focusing almost obsessively upon the steady rise and fall of his chest as if it were the one thing to keep me alive, and in a situation like this, it probably wasn't quite that far off.

"Not necessarily, but in our situation yes."

"Oh." I wasn't quite sure how to react to that.

Matt picked up the pill bottles, examining them one by one, his expression contorting further as he went through the bottles. "This was meant to do some damage." He said with a sigh. "Alex isn't stupid, as stupid as what this makes him out to be. He knows what these things do."

"Can you reverse the effects or whatever...?"

"Not with more pills, this isn't fucking science, kid. This is Alex has been a stupid bitch and sent half his organs and a lot of his muscles into overdrive or hibernation mode." I shot him with an unintentionally confused expression.

"His heart and lungs are moderately okay at the very least. His brain, I'd need to assess once he wakes up- he could be pretty fucked up okay... I'll warn you... and with the level of sanity he was at prior to this..." He trailed off, his mind probably wandering with him, fucking off into a state of reality where Alex was the slightest bit sane.

"Don't." He grimaced at me, but stifled a nod. "How do we ugh... wake his brain up?"

"Like this." Flyzik winked at me, before increasing his voice into a yell that made the hairs on my skin prickle up. "Gaskarth get your head back here! What the fuck do you think? How is this acceptable? Get yourself together, asshole!" I shivered a little, knowing I surely would have found a nicer way to put it.

Silence. Nothing.

"It didn't work." I noted, glancing down at Alex's body and watching juts how motionless it remained apart from the steady rise and fall of his chest.

"Wait a moment, kid." He snapped at me behind gritted teeth, his tongue laced with arrogance.

"Fuck!" There was a spluttering cough as Alex tried to move, only to be pushed back down again by Flyzik.

"Don't fucking move, asshole." Alex rubbed his eyes, adjusting to the light and the fact that somehow he was still alive - a fact that I was stupidly glad of and one that Alex didn't seem to appreciate quite enough at all. "You've fucked yourself enough already, you don't need to break all your fucking bones."

"By holding me down like that, it's you that's going to break something, Flyzik." Alex grumbled, again trying to move, but Flyzik continuing in his quest to hold him down. Flyzik was fucking strong by the looks of it and I was just kind of selfishly glad I wasn't Alex right now.

"Don't threaten me when you can already barely breathe, Gaskarth." Alex simply teared his gaze away from Flyzik, his eyes eventually locking with mine, widening instantly, because he'd told me not to come into the kitchen, not to be here, not to witness this, because Alex still cared about me and he didn't want me to see him like this.

"Jacky..." His name trailed from my lips, nothing more than a heavy sigh matched with fluttering eyelids.

"Alex." I forced my best fake smile at him; I didn't know why I bothered - I just did. Maybe it was in an attempt to try and lift his spirits, but if it was, it was hardly the best of attempts by any means whatsoever.

"Jacky, am I dead? Will I die?"

I hazarded a glance at Flyzik, whose eyes were elsewhere - Alex's.

"D-Do you want to... is this an... at-tempt?" I stumbled out the words in an entirely pathetic and helplessness manner, because I didn't want to face this topic at all, yet with Alex I'd been plunged head first into it.

"Jacky?" He met me with those stupid, big brown eyes.

"What the kid means is did you try and fucking kill yourself?" Flyzik came and put it in an entirely more direct and horribly brutal manner, but it was one he couldn't escape, with no amount of flattery at all.

"Not kill myself... I was trying to fix myself." My breath hitched, my windpipe clogging entirely with the sensation of chocking on my badly held back tears.

"You're fucking insane." Flyzik snapped, inhaling far too much air and almost choking on it. "Dude, the only kind of fixing you need is extensive therapy."

Alex scoffed as if Flyzik was the insane one here, which despite his demeanour, compared to Alex, he really wasn't. "You and I both hate hospitals and the doctor bastards."

"I hate seeing you in this state more, Alex." And there was the only compassionate sentence that left Flyzik's lips.

"You just don't want to be held responsible for the body, Matt." Matt. Flyzik was his last name, I assumed. Matt Flyzik. That sounds okay, not that seemed to be the kind of name that seemed to fit someone like him; my brother knew a Matt, but that Matt was nothing like this.

"Well I know for sure that this kid ain't gonna do shit about it." He glanced at me, encasing my cheeks in a terrible blush.

"Fuck off, Flyzik. Don't touch Jacky." He was awfully protective over me even in this state and it broke my heart.

"Alright." Matt Flyzik sighed, possibly giving up on the both of us at once. "Kid, do you think he needs sorting out properly?"

"I don't know." I said after what felt like the longest silence, because both of them intimidated me to hell and I didn't want to chance disagreeing with and therefore upsetting either of them.

"That's just sweet talk for saying no - he's scared of you." Alex butted in. The second part was true, but I myself wasn't sure of the first.

"Alex... why did you...?" I glanced down at the pill bottles that were now stacked in an organised manner besides Flyzik.

"I'm fine." He protested, despite the irony that came with his words in his current situation.

"You're lying in a pool of your own blood." Flyzik snapped and Alex grimaced, glancing at the crimson liquid that had pooled out dangerously close to his head.

"Clean it up, Matt?" Alex contorted his face into a disgusted expression, clearly not impressed with the conditions he'd ironically put himself in.

"Not until you give us a straight answer."

Alex sighed, turning to me. "Jacky... it's you."

"What?" I panicked, turning to Flyzik almost as a source of comfort, but by the look he shot me I knew that it was nothing short of a terrible idea.

"You're fucking ugh- I'm in love with you... but I can't be... this is going to get us caught and I can't deal with emotions, you understand me, right?" I didn't understand him... not at all.

"You can't love me because you need to be a psychopath..." The words trailed off my tongue as if they were toxic, because I didn't believe them and I didn't want them to be to true, not ever, not at all.

"Exactly!" Alex exclaimed all too fucking eagerly.

"You're sick." I didn't use the word as an insult... it was more of a fact, or at least that's what I justified it to my conscience with.

"Will you listen to your boyfriend, huh?" Flyzik snapped, glaring at Alex's limp body.

"I'm not going into a fucking hospital - it's risky, okay." Alex groaned out, stretching his arms a little, only to have Flyzik move them immediately back into place.

"You shouldn't have killed people - it's fucking risky, okay?" Flyzik mimicked, snapping at him.

"You don't understand." He protested, again doing a typical Alex Gaskarth thing and trying to justify the unjustifiable, and annoyingly he'd probably end up succeeding in the matter.

"No, we don't." I butted in, causing his gaze to lock with mine. "We don't get why you need to be like this and we can't help you... we need to find someone that can, Lex."

He scoffed. "Good luck, good fucking luck."

Flyzik sighed, grabbing a bandage and stretching at around the injured area of his skull. "It's not bleeding now, but just to be sure." He then pulled Alex up and carried him bridal style to the sofa, it was kind of amusing to watch, Alex Gaskarth being all babied up, but the situation removed any humour from the situation within in an instant.

"Nothing hurts." Alex almost complained, his words making very little sense at all, well at least from my perspective they didn't.

"Your muscles will wake up soon, don't worry." Flyzik snapped, beginning upon mopping up the blood and making it look less like there'd just been a massacre in our kitchen, you know, just in case the police popped round or something.

"Jacky." Alex mewed as I neared him, snuggling up into his limp frame. I couldn't help myself, and I knew how much of a bad idea the last seventeen days of my life had been, I just couldn't help it; I couldn't help myself at all.

"Are you honestly okay?" I whispered in a hushed tone, twisting my neck awkwardly so my gaze met with his.

"No...” He replied and I nodded, expecting that answer entirely, but that still didn't affect just how little I wanted to hear it.

"I thought so." I paused, exhaling loudly and against Alex's chest. "I'm glad you didn't lie to me, though."

"I'm glad I didn't either." He admitted, his words barely audible, so I could barely hear them and generally ensuring that Matt didn't. "Promise me something?"

"Yeah?" I asked, widening my eyes as they met with his.

"You won't ever let Matt hate me, okay?" I said, the promise not being entirely what I expected. I think the stupid part of me wanted some stupid fairy tale I love you soppy bullshit, but this was Alex Gaskarth - he'd killed six people, but not me, and that was a mystery the world would never quite understand.

"I doubt he'll listen to me." I admitted against his chest.

"Mmm..." Alex sighed out, letting his aching head whiz around with a thousand thought. "I l-love you-u." He stammered out, almost scared of the words themselves, which I thought was entirely stupid and awfully juvenile.

"But you don't want to."

"There are some things we can't help though, and maybe we just have to learn to embrace those things."

-

Day Eighteen. Jack - 16:45

After Flyzik had left, I'd been spending an awful lot of time thinking about what he said regarding Alex. I knew that with someone like him I really shouldn't take a single word that let his lips in any way seriously at all, but they were words and words stuck, especially when they were words that you didn't want to hear.

The thing is, I kind of knew deep down that Alex wasn't really 'with it', and that my boyfriend was stuck somewhere deep within the clutches of insanity, but I really daren't admit it to myself and I had ended up burying it deep within layers of bullshit and dreams I'd really like to forget and holding it under the surface so it drowned there, and somehow Alex's insanity didn't seem real anymore.

But it was very real, so real in fact that all I needed to remember its entire existence was a few words pushing it back up to the surface by none other than Matt Flyzik. And now the thought, the concept - the reality was buzzing around my head like an agitated fruit fly, and I was rather overwhelmed when it came to the matter, because I knew that this wasn't easy at all and there certainly was no easy way out.

There was no doubt in the fact that Alex needed professional help, but there was also no doubt in the fact that bringing a serial killer into a hospital was most certainly a terrible idea, especially if you're a missing person... that really is a recipe for disaster, or more literally, arrest.

As you could have guessed, that's particularly not an idea I'm all that keen on, especially considering the co-dependent mess that my relationship with Alex has become. Though it may be a co-dependent mess, it's somehow all I could ever want, and as much as every one's screaming to look behind me, I've never turned back.

I did however need advice as my own brain was significantly lacklustre at the art of anything to do with emotions, which is indeed where I called upon and generally thanked the existence of Cassadee, because damn she was a fucking life saver.

I logged onto my email, and messaged her; we hadn't spoken since she sent me that one message I meant to reply to but never got round to two days ago. I hope she hadn't taken that personally, and I really doubt that she would have in the first place because she's Cassadee and she has a brain and somehow knows how to use it.

Hey Cassadee, I was wondering if I could ask your advice on something... it's uhh... kind of personal so yeah... uhh... I'd just like someone intelligent's opinion, you know? Thanks.

My message sounded rather stiff and awkward but I was far too preoccupied with the fact that Alex had insisted upon going out to work today even despite what happened yesterday. He was stupidly reckless and I'd even threatened calling Flyzik to talk some sense into him, but then Alex just gave me one of those looks that I haven't seen for a good two weeks now and that silenced me within seconds, which was kind of worrying when you thought about it...

I just hoped he came home, okay? And now I just sound like some worried housewife from World War II, which does bring quite an amusing if not awfully embarrassing mental image.

I was glad to hear a pop sound coming from my laptop to notify me of a new message from Cassadee.

Hey Jack:) Sure you can - I wouldn't call myself intelligent but I'm all ears.

I knew I could rely on Cassadee dear god, how could I ever manage my own life without her?

Jack: Well this guy I know he's kind of been weird lately like kind of scary. I'm worried about him despite the fact he says he's totally fine, and he clearly isn't. Two days ago he took some pills and passed out unconscious in our kitchen and I didn't even know until he came downstairs in the morning. And he says he hears like these voices... I don't want to think that he's insane or anything but I'm just really worried about him.

Cassadee: God, that's just oh my god, Jack. That's honest out of my depth like you should take him to see a doctor or a psychologist or someone- I don't know. Just make sure he doesn't do anything to hurt himself in the meantime.

Jack: Our friend suggested that. And he's really opposed to the idea I understand like he doesn't like hospitals and shit I don't know, and he's really kind of stubborn, so I'm kind of stuck here because he refuses to see anyone about this. I don't think he would hurt himself; he's very arrogant and self-righteous; I think it'd be other people if he were to hurt anyone.

Cassadee: Oh god that's a tricky situation. Is he far too stubborn to be convinced that it's for the best? If so there are always psych wards where they can keep him contained and looked after - they're not as scary as you might think. Make sure you don't get hurt then, if he ever threatens you or something you call the fucking police okay?

Jack: Okay. He's far too stubborn yes, but I'm not taking him to a fucking psych ward: a) I'd have to sedate him to get him there b) I don't agree with those things; locking you up and shaking the crazy out of you? Doesn't sound like it's going to work.

Cassadee: Everything works if you want it to, Jack.

Jack: He won't want it to - he doesn't. Even if he managed to accept that there's something wrong with his head, which he won't, he'll be far too stubborn to let me be right and resist all treatment because he's just a fucking asshole like that.

Cassadee: Sounds like a pretty shitty dude, no offense.

Jack: He's all I've got, and despite the insanity, he's a good guy. I promise.

Cassadee: Maybe you should broaden your selection of friends, and possibly do a little revaluation of your life. Huh? Maybe?

Jack: Maybe.

Maybe not. Because for once Cassadee just didn't get it and my stupid little head was finding that rather hard to adjust to, because I was nothing short of horribly and sickeningly co-dependent. I needed people to be alive and I didn't like that - I didn't like people, and for the first time I didn't think I liked Cassadee all that much anymore.

Maybe Alex was fine; maybe I was just overreacting, as usual.

-

Alex - 17:38

The feeling of murder is passion, hunger, and exhilaration - all at once. It's truly a beautiful thing despite its destructive stereotype.

Killing is a unique form of art because it's creative. It's kind of just like painting, except the brush isn't dipped in watercolour; it's dipped in human blood. There are 52 ways to murder anyone; one or two are the same, and they both work as well.

I want to see her dead; her corpse lying on the kitchen floor besides mine, the two of us sharing a pool of blood and maybe that'll be enough for her to satisfy her lust for me. Jack wouldn't be happy though, but Jack is never happy; Jack is human, Jack is a burden.

"Alex, can we talk?" Jack is here; Jack is watching me. I hate the feeling of his eyes upon me and that unspoken feeling on judgement that they brought with them.

I hated Jack sometimes, and this time was one of them, because the boy, he cared too much. He though too much about things that didn't need thinking about and he talked too much about things that didn't need talking about. He was all in excess, and too much of anything was bad for you - even I knew that.

Six had been my sweet spot, and only now had it become quite so apparent that seven was pushing it. Seven, in fact, had pushed it. Seven had pushed my luck entirely, leaving me in whatever mess I dared to call the present.

I suddenly felt very subconscious of the way I stood almost lifelessly in our kitchen; clutching a butter knife in my fingertips and twirling it around in a way that would be very concerning if the thing were capable of cutting something other than butter.

"Uhh... yeah... I guess." I sighed, putting the butter knife back on the side and turning to face him, watching his eyes flicker in the faulty kitchen light. I ought to get the light fixed, or maybe Jack to fix it - naked. I'd quite like that, if I was honest, but that was lust and lust is just another sin.

The angels warned me about sins, and how Jack and I were sinners. God doesn't like sinners, and they say he'll never let me into heaven like this; I'm just not sure I want to go to heaven, especially a heaven without Jack.

"Why were you holding that knife?" The words darted from his lips, a snare trap set by a poison spiked tongue, leaping and ready to pounce.

"Is that really all you came to talk to me about?" I eyed him suspiciously; trying my best to drive the subject of conversation away from anything at all compromising, except when you were in a situation like mine, the aforementioned was very much easier said than done. It didn't stop me trying though because I was nothing short of a determined little bastard and no one, not even Jack Barakat could put a stop to that.

"No-" I cut him off before he could continue, suspecting that the actual topic of conversation was much worse entirely. I was quite probably right.

"Then get onto what you're here for - I don't have time to waste, Jacky." I did indeed have time to waste, and it was time I wanted to waste with him, but not like this - I wanted to waste it with small talk and idle make out sessions, and not interrogation sessions the police would be jealous of.

"The knife... were you going to hurt- what- what were you going to do with it?" He finally stumbled out; his words nothing short of a hasty mess. He was obviously just a little overwhelmed by the image of my hand curled tightly around the domestic weapon; the thoughts that I'd killed six people seemed to have flooded back to him right in that very moment.

"I don't know - make a sandwich?" I shrugged it off as if it was nothing, despite the fact I'd rather throw a brick at my own face than take my chances eating anything made with the out of date bread that still lay on the side if my memory served me correctly.

"There's no bread-" He must have thrown the bread out, Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Well, I have no idea how to recover myself from this one, except making a mental note to forcefully remind Jack never to throw bread away ever again, despite even the foulest states of mould. Which, in the long run, was probably not the best of ideas at all, but it certainly would have helped my current situation.

"What?" I stammered another word out, simply buying myself more time in the most menial manner possible and it was really rather obvious that Jack had in fact seen straight through my facade, but really he was Jack and by now, he knew me far, far too well for anything to be quite as easy as I'd like it to be.

"We've ran out of bread." He clarified, watching me suspiciously through narrowed eyes, not one for bullshit, I presumed, raking my brains for something reminiscent of a vaguely believable excuse, and of course just t0 my luck, nothing at all came to mind, leaving me with a foul temper and harshly pushed out syllables, eventually constructing themselves into words of the least desirable variety.

"I'll just have fucking butter then." I snapped at him, my jaw flying open as I left to imagine the mess I'd made, but the problem was that once I started, the angles wouldn't let me stop, so then next few words came out and then the world was a tidal wave, and I wasn't surfing a top it. "What the fuck do you want?"

"I just wanted to see if you were alright." His voice finally crept out meek and mild, and most of all scared. I liked that; I liked the fear in his voice and how empowering it made me feel, but at the same time I hated it, I hated the fear in his voice and how it made my stomach churn and my heart hurt as I shifted my head into a mode that resembled something of a psychopath rather than a human.

"I'm fine." I spat out, not meeting his gaze, because deep down it still hurt to hurt him, and now I was hurting him because really, I was doing nothing other than lying and the two of us knew nothing more than that.

"You don't look fine." He persisted, because he was Jack and persisting was just what he did. He was a determined stubborn bastard too.

"You don't look annoying, but here you fucking are-"

"Alex-" My name simply pulled my emotions back in check, my eyes widened because the way he form the syllables and the way his mouth moved around the words was nothing short of beautiful to me. And I wanted to hear him say my name again, but he wouldn't, because he'd cracked through the facade now - now he'd really done it.

"What?" I snapped out, keeping the useless walls of a now useless facade for the sake of my stubborn mind.

"You're not fine because you overdosed. You overdosed, Alex." He continued, drilling the words into my skull as if I wasn't already very much aware of that fact.

"Yes I know, that was indeed my intention, believe it or not, kid."

"Don't call me kid." his response was instant, harsh and I think just maybe I did kind of deserve it.

"Why? Is that Matt's job?" My words came out just a little bit crueller than I intended, and now I couldn't quite stop myself from meeting him with big sad eyes and a sorry expression that sold my soul out.

"I like Jacky." He murmured out after a few moments.

"I like Jacky too." I inhaled far too much air at once. "I like you."

"I like you too."

And then, then we were kissing. And we weren't just kissing, we were kissing. As in, I had him pressed up against the counter, pushing my hips against his in a desperate attempt to create friction, some much needed friction in this empty little head of mine.

I wondered if sex would help; if sex would somehow fill in the blanks or at least occupy my mind with something else for a while... I just didn't count on the fact that Jack would be compliment. Maybe I'd have to settle for sucking him off - surely the angels would have little to say when his cock was pushed against the back of my throat- hmm... Maybe I'd have to find out.

I pulled away from him, releasing a gasp from his lips as he watched me grab him by the hips. "Lex, what are you doing?"

"I want to suck you off, Jacky." He met me with widened eyes and a held breath, uncertainty raging rampant in those brown eyes of his. "Can I?"

"Only sucking me off." He burnt through my skin with stern words. "Only."

It was most definitely better than nothing though, and this wasn't an opportunity that I'd be the type to pass up.

"I promise." And then before he could rush out any words of trust or something even more treacherous, I was on my knees and my hands were down at his hips, getting rid of the problem that was his jeans and just how tight they were against his legs and how that did me absolutely no favours whatsoever.

I pulled his jeans down to his knees before setting to work on those fucking boxer shorts of his, like fuck, seriously, why did he insist upon wearing underwear, or even clothes for that matter? Maybe I should insist he walks around naked? I doubt he'd like that, being so insecure with his body and whatever, but it'd certainly brighten my day.

"You're fucking hot." I breathed out, pulling his boxers down even with a lack of foreplay because I was fucking needy for this.

"So- so are you..." He breathed out as I grabbed him in one hand before pulling him between my lips and sucking on his head, making no excuses or anything of that matter because hollowing out my cheeks around him and fuck it was good.

Just to look up and see him writhing against the countertop in the pleasure I had crafted so lovingly for him was nothing short of an honour, because it was all to remember that he was mine - he was my Jacky.

The moans were just to seal the deal; the beautiful little gasps he let slide through his lips every so often were nothing short of heavenly gifts, except this was nothing to do with the angels, because somehow with Jacky in my mouth, I couldn't hear them at all.

And as he thrust into my mouth, his cock hitting the back of my throat, he released a tidal wave of come; salty and sticky slithering down the back of my throat for me to swallow without question. I didn't and of course wouldn't complain though, because it was beautiful, he was beautiful and it felt wonderful to have him mine forever.

I just didn't expect the feeling of when I came into my fucking boxers without any stimulation from him; just having him in my mouth was enough, and somehow that scared me because never had anyone meant to me as much as Jacky did now.

And thinking of it, I planned to kill him from the moment I met him, little did I know he'd end up slowly killing me.

-

Jack. Day Nineteen - 8:14

"Alex?" I walked into the kitchen, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes, kind of pissed off about being cruelly awaken at this time in the morning by an unspecified and annoyingly loud clattering noise, which just to my luck seemed to insist upon echoing throughout the walls of this place. "What are you doing?"

My boyfriend jumped around to face me, dropping the bottle of pills instantaneously. The glass split upon impact with the marble flooring, causing the hundred or so tiny white tablets to spread out in a mess across our kitchen floor.

"You weren't going to take them, were you?" I eyed the pills nervously, before glancing back up to Alex and digging my teeth into my bottom lip and probably unintentionally cutting off the blood flow to my mouth entirely.

"No." His words hit me with truthfulness and sincerity, yet even if he were to be telling the truth, the situation just wouldn't make sense regardless - what could he possibly be doing with a fucking bottle of pills.

"Then what- what else were you going to do with them?" I pushed the words out breathlessly, my eyes darting in a continuous loop between Alex and the pills.

"I was examining them." He didn't even try to lie decently - his tone coming off sarcastic, and very much like he didn't care, and with him being Alex, I presumed he didn't at all, and really, as much as I hated it, I wasn't wrong.

"And why would you need to be doing that?" I asked, looking with uncertainty at my boyfriend because I didn't know both what I should believe and I what I actually wanted to.

"Because I need them." he insisted, his words breaking through the silence with a stern tone instantly, as if he didn't even need to think about his answer at all.

"Lex- no, you don't, just-" I let out a sigh, wondering if I would ever get anywhere with Alex, but despite the unfruitful future ahead, I just couldn't give up - he meant to much to me, and of course I both hated and thanked myself greatly for that fact. "Fuck. Just tell me what's going on, please?"

"No." And with that he turned to walk out, but he had the sadistic fortune of slipping on the pills and landing on the marble flooring with his head against the countertop.

"Fuck! Alex are you okay?" I rushed over to him, grabbing his hands, only to have him look up at me and shoot me nothing short of a death glare, only of course to blame me for giving a damn, as was expected.

"I'm fine, Jacky." He pulled himself back up, still gripping tightly onto my hand throughout the process, which calmed up down - me more than him, admittedly. This was kind of pathetic, but right now it was the least of my worries entirely.

"Just tell me what you were thinking of doing with the pills." I met his gaze, wondering if I ever would successfully pull an answer out of him. I reckoned things wouldn't go quite so well, but of course nothing was going to stop me trying.

"No, because you'll stop me and I'm not making a mistake like that, Jacky. I care about you, but there are some aspects of me you shouldn't care about at all, and this is one of them." He just didn't get that you couldn't turn off the caring feature. It was just something that had grown on me; rather like Alex himself.

"Alex, if you're trying to kill yourself-"

"I'm not fucking suicidal." He snapped, tightening his grip around my hand, making me shiver a little, before I could push it off and remind myself that this was Alex, my boyfriend, and everything was very much okay.

"Then what are you?"

"I'm a serial killer, Jacky. You're in love with me, Jacky." He locked our gazes, keeping my brown eyes ensnared with his, and by the beauty that his held, maybe I wasn't all that bothered. "Which of our two behaviours is more suicidal, huh?"

I shook my head, refusing to accept the strong evidence he'd laid out before me. "But you don't want to kill me."

"Right now I don't, but that can change, you know-" His words meant nothing to me, despite just how stupid that seemed to anyone else, it made nothing but perfect sense within my mind as there was no one in this world that I trusted like I trusted Alex.

"It won't." I promised him, on his behalf, which was kind of belittling, and overall made very little sense.

"You're oblivious, and it's annoying, yet kind of fucking hot." He spat at me, pushing me back against the counter top and kissing me with all he had. He never seemed to care for the matter that I might want or even need any warning, but part of me totally digged that, and this only made me eager for the spontaneously moments in which he would pounce upon me with our lips connected and the taste of him rendering everything else irrelevant.

"Fuck..." I breathed out against his lips, our kiss turning open mouthed within seconds and without a word of consent from either parties; we just kind of trusted one another now. And considering just who Alex was, I knew that I had landed myself in just the most toxic of situations, yet I couldn't seem to get myself to care at all.

"Yes, we will, Jacky, but not now." He pulled away, his hands tangling out of my knotted hair; something I missed within mere seconds. "I have work, you know."

"Why do you work?" I asked him, considering begging him not to go, and evaluating just how selfish it sounded whilst wondering just what my hypothetical chances of pulling it off were. "You clearly have enough money judging by this practically fucking mansion we live in- I mean I've never even been in half of the rooms."

"Something to keep my mind off things..." He let out a sigh, looking me right in the eye, leaving us in a momentarily painful and mutual understanding of just what he meant, and fuck, I didn't like it at all.

"What about me, what about me, Lex?" I entangled our fingers, pulling him close to me, not wanting to lose him at all, cherishing the lost side of him that no one else got to see - it felt like my little personal side of Alex and I could never ask for anything more.

"I can't hurt you Jacky." He let out a desperate sigh, his eyes reddening and sad; almost empty.

"What do you mean?"

He let out a sigh; there'd been far too many sighs today, and very little I'd been able to do about it. "Think about it, Jacky. Think real fucking hard about the pills and think about things you don't want to think about. Think about your brother's party and think who else I could possibly hurt with these pills other than the two of us, so don't try to stop me! Because I'll stop you - despite the fact I'd hate to."

In my moment of shock, he just left as I remained paralysed and barely functional, watching as he left the flat. He left to go kill someone and I didn't know who, why, or where.

I couldn't stop him.

Someone was going to die.

Alex was going to kill a seventh victim, except it just wasn't me.

It should be me. I don't know number seven, but I know they don't deserve this, and I know nothing like I know the fact that I'm nothing but helpless in this matter.

I didn't know how to stop this at all or what the fuck to do, so I had two options - I had help - I had either Flyzik or Cassadee, and I needed one of their help.

-

The dialling tone went on forever, and even on the seventh attempt Flyzik didn't pick up, so I turned to the laptop, I turned to Cass, and I did what I promised to Alex I would never. I committed a crime, a sin, and I wasn't the slightest bit guilty, because in this world, where the chance of Alex killing an innocent was very real, I just couldn't let my mind be concerned with matters of my own.

I explained everything, I explained everything to her, and bit my nails as I nervously awaited her reply and the fate that would follow both Alex and number seven. The paragraph was long and with poor grammar, but I doubted that mattered all that much when you took into account the urgency of the situation.

Alex could get arrested - she could call the police, and I just didn't know what to do, but I did know that someone, an innocent someone, no matter who they were, did not deserve to die - not at all.

-

Alex - 11:24

"You're kind of cute, you know." She rolled the words off her tongue like she did it for a living, and judging by that skirt, I wouldn't be far off with my guess at all. Not that I meant anything by that, of course.

"Hmm..." I wondered if I should blush. Humans blush, right? Can you even fake blushing? I don't know and I just don't like it. "Is that a compliment?"

She passed me a baffled look, and I knew that now I really should have blushed, but I just couldn't quite seem to force myself into the matter. "What else would it be?"

I shrugged, attempting to push this off like it really was just nothing but reality disagreed. "You could have an assassin, and that'd be the single for them to swoop in and kill me. Kind of like when Judas kissed Jesus and he was arrested-" I noticed her blank and rather bored expression. "You have read the Bible, right?"

"Oh, yeah, of course- no, well I've heard like people read it and shit but I've never actually read it first hand, you know." The angels told me she was going to hell, but I didn't have to be told; I already knew for myself. Hell is welcoming its arms for her, and little does she know that she'll be arriving much sooner than she thinks.

"You should read it." I passed my words off as if they didn't contain such a stern tone.

"You're Christian?" She raised her eyebrows and I raised mine, wondering what her issue was here. "Sorry- you just don't look like the type."

"I'm not Christian per say, I just believe in God, angels, and the realms of heaven and hell- that's sort of some descent of Paganism mixed with the belief in our one God, which I guess is Jewish-"

"Okay, okay." She forced her lips into a smile, despite the fact that I was clearly boring her. I didn't care though because I was more than fucking content with the fact that she was going to receive justice. "I get it... and you're still cute."

"I guess you're cute too."

And the fucking smile that followed it; I knew I had to kill her, and I didn't even need to think about the fact that I would enjoy it.

-

"You want help printing that?" I couldn't even answer before her hands were snaking over mine and pressing several buttons upon the printer dashboard.

"I think I can manage, you know." I snapped out, annoyed by her breath against my neck. I didn't want her breathing at all, and I most certainly did not want her disgusting lipstick hogged breath anywhere near me.

"I disagree." She smirked; putting a printed booklet in my hand that I hadn't even intended to print and I was certain belonged to the skinny guy who eats an abnormal amount of doughnuts considering his size, who worked a few booths across from mine.

"You're wrong, you know - don't underestimate me." She didn't quite get it. Despite my bitter tone, this somehow remained all just a joke to her; I didn't get it - i didn't get her. The female species was one I just couldn't understand, and maybe that's why Jack and I had connected so much... and the certain feelings I'd rather not think about followed so quickly.

"Personally, I think I'm overestimating." She let out a giggle that made me want to force a dagger right through her heart. Or maybe a bullet? Hmm... Which would make it more agonising for her? It depends where the blow lands, I guess.

"Personally, I think you're fucking wrong and that you should shut the fuck up." She only giggled, because she just didn't see it; she was like the rest of them - fucking ignorant, and by eradicating her from existence, I was just doing the world nothing short of a favour.

"Personally," She began, running her tongue over her red lipstick and smudging it a little in the process; something I didn't point out to her, simply due to the fact that I really just couldn't give the slightest of fucks. "I think you should kiss me."

I looked at her for a moment, and knew that I had to get rid of her quickly - she was compromising things via the means of nothing short of utterly compromising situations and it was a dreadful situation, because I had to lead her on further when all I wanted to do was slap that bitch right across the face.

"Personally, I think we could do a lot more than that."

She blushed a colour that matched her lipstick and her blood when I had it all over my floor, and I got Jack to clean it up or something like that. I wasn't touching that shit. It had come from her after all.

"What? In this printing room?" She took a step forward, and I knew I had her on a leash right here; she was playing right into my hand and it was both enthralling and horrific at the same time. I hated how gullible they were, but then again that just was the best part sometimes; the ecstasy like feeling of just winning - always having the last word and always just knowing what was going on.

"Of course not, darling." The pet name was for effect - it was obviously in no way endearing and that was made awfully and almost compromisingly obvious by the monotone voice it was released in, yet she still swooned and fell for it. Pathetic.

"What do you suggest then?" She continued, pulling back at her bottom lip with her teeth.

"Hmm..." I ran through my opinions, and I even briefly considered springing my true intentions onto her in the middle of nowhere, simply for her reaction and the high probability that she'd be a stupid bitch and just laugh it off, which of course would be nothing short of truly hilarious- and I, I wouldn't even be laughing.

"Hmm?" She mimicked.

"I was thinking something special, you know." I persisted, running my tongue across my bottom lip, addiction consuming me entirely, because I couldn't help blinking to see her hung from the ceiling, blinking to see her drowning in her own blood, and then having to rapidly blink once again to pull myself back into reality.

"Really?"

"Yeah." That's why I fucking said so, bitch.

"What are you suggesting?" She implored, taking a step closer to me, and I let a smirk lap over my lips as the corners twitched up into a smile.

"I'm suggesting you come back to mine and we just see how things go from there. You know, let life take its course." I winked at her, letting her believe what she wanted, when my idea of life taking its course, was the ending; because, all things had to end, as you know.

"I'd like that." The distance between us diminished further, and entirely on her part once again.

"When's good for you?" This was all just too easy now - it was practically ridiculous, but that didn't stop me from relishing in the moment in the slightest at all.

"Whenever's good for you." She grinned entwining our fingers as I blissfully imagined every possible way I could stab her.

"Tomorrow." The word left my lips as an order, opposed to a question,

"Tomorrow." She agreed, biting down on her cherry red lipstick and really making a fucking mess of it this time. And then she pulled me down, grabbing me by my hair and kissed me. It was sloppy and unexpected; with far too much tongue and enthusiasm, and very little regard for art or delicacy.

She really did have to die.

"Will you be providing the condoms?" She winked at me, before bursting out into a laugh. "God, I can't keep that 'sexy' thing up any more."

"I have condoms, yes." I winked at her, out of relegation, winding her further and further around my little finger by the moment. The question as to whether she'd stay alive long enough to even consider for us having to use them was another matter entirely. "What guy doesn't?"

"My brother - but, he's like twelve so..."

"He probably does then."

"Don't, oh my god." She burst into a fit of giggles that didn't fail to irritate me beyond belief.

"Hey, you know, there's something I never got off you." I continued, and I watched her eyes spark up ridiculously like some sort of lovesick puppy.

"My number?" She grinned, getting out her phone almost automatically.

"Your name."

"Fuck, I never did get round to telling you, did I?" She blushed the shade of lipstick once more.

"No, you didn't." I stated, watching her eyes and lingering in the awkward silence. "I'm Alex." I started things up for her.

"Hey Alex." She beamed up at me ignorantly. "Alex suits you."

"Thanks." I wasn't sure how much of a compliment saying that my own name suited me was. Surely it was more of a compliment to my parents, as they had chosen the name, and she was kind of just complimenting them upon their fantastic naming abilities.

"So you are?"

She winked at me. "Find out tonight."

"I'm impatient." I needed a name. I couldn't just kill someone I didn't know the name of - I wasn't quite that tacky.

"Cassadee." She pushed her hair behind her ear. "I'm Cassadee."

Hello then, Cassadee. Enjoy your last night alive.

-

Day Twenty. Alex - 17:43

"I know what you're going to do, Alex." I looked up to see Jack burst in through the door, with a horrified expression painted across his face.

The fact that he knew within itself did not faze me at all, as it would only be the fact that he'd try to stop me that I should be worrying about. Well, should be, meaning I'm not even that bothered regarding the latter, because this, this is just Jacky, my Jacky. He couldn't even be mad at me for more than a minute.

"Do you?" I raised my eyebrows; at least he'd managed to gather the intelligence to fix the pieces together into a viable explanation. "Congratulations." The sarcasm that came with my words was of course, mandatory.

"Alex-" He protested, his face dipping into that pathetically cute little pout he wore like it was a part of his own skin.

"Yes, Jacky?" I pouted at him at him in return; mimicking him wasn't of the high moral code, but it was rather amusing- amusing enough in fact to disregard what little morals I had in favour of my own mildly sadistic amusement.

"You know you just can't do that- you just can't-" His words came out haphazardly in a misplaced stammer as thoughts ran through his head at what I estimated to be the speed of light, or somewhere realistically close to that.

"Can't what?" I was toying with him now and the angels loved it, and maybe not even the angels, because I think for the most part, I did too. There was just that little pang of guilt that came with it because I somehow still gave a damn about Jack, but that pang of guilt could be easily overruled and ironed out.

"You can't kill the seventh. I'm supposed to be seventh - if you're killing anyone, it's me." He protested, pleading for his death in a way that made me sick. Death wasn't a right; death was a matter of justice - something to be decided by someone heavenly and above - God. Jack wouldn't choose to die, but maybe if the angels persisted upon it I would kill him. I hated that, but what I hated more was the fact that it was only a maybe.

"You're not the seventh, Jacky... he let out a long sigh, I don't know - think of yourself as six point five or something-" Six point five wasn't exactly the best thing I've come up with lately, but it was the first thing that came to mind so I went with it, because what else was I supposed to do?

"Six point five?" He raised his eyebrows, clearly thinking just as well of my haphazard thinking as I did. "No, you know I'm number seven and you know you have to kill me if you're going to kill someone."

"You're asking me to kill you- and you say I'm the suicidal one." I scoffed, rolling my eyes at him. Jack could be a hypocrite sometimes, and it was fucking annoying, but what could I say - he was of course, only human.

"I'm not asking you to kill me, I'm not asking you to kill anyone, and in fact I'd prefer it if you didn't kill anyone, but since you seem so convinced upon the idea, I'm just saying that I'd prefer you kill me over an innocent person." An innocent person? He just doesn't get it. Cassadee - she isn't innocent, she's sinned in adultery and God and the angels have commanded that I punish her correctly for that sin, and it is of course no more than my duty to abide by God's word and see that her fate is given to her correctly.

"This self-sacrifice thing you humans have is quite ridiculous, you know." I brushed his words off like they held no impact whatsoever, and choosing that the whole God's word thing wouldn't really sit particularly well in Jack's ignorantly atheistic head.

"It's not self-sacrifice, Alex. It's called empathy, and a feeling of righteous and morals - all three of the above you seem to lack." He again was wrong; I had plenty of morals - we just didn't seem to have the same ones. I abided by God's morals; the right morals. Jack abided by what he saw fit, which did of course leave me as the one in the right here.

"I care about you though don't I?" I shrugged, pushing forward a point he couldn't deny, because even he wouldn't deny the feelings between us, because he was human and he clung to them far too much. "That counts, I guess."

"You should care about number seven." He pushed the point unnecessarily - I think I got the just of his bullshit by now, but then again, of course he could just never quite be sure could he? "Who are they- do you even know their name-"

"Of course I know their name; I'm not that trashy-" I knew who I was killing and not just that - I knew why, and I knew how. I had it all planned out, and I prepared for that shit, because to me this wasn't some crazy ass thing; this was my job, my life - who I was meant to be and just who I am.

"Trashy? You sound like fucking Gok Wan, but you're acting like fucking Ted Bundy!" He rolled his eyes at me. I should have been the one rolling my eyes, because Ted Bundy was probably was the worst example he could have given - it was almost offending me.

There was nothing sinful in my killing. I was killing righteously; there was no lust, no sexual desires - nothing of the sort. I am justice, I am out to rid the world of sin, not corrupt it further.

"Ted Bundy got caught - I'm not going to." I pushed my arrogance through my words, my arrogance of course being the only flaw in me, but God made us with flaws, and most of the time, my arrogance did in fact work in my favour.

"Ted Bundy thought that too. He thought that so much that after he evaded capture after escaping from prison he started fucking killing again."

"The thing is though, Jacky. I'm not going to get to prison in the first place - don't worry about me." He was worrying far too much and it was this kind of worrying that was going to land us amidst a disagreement. I wasn't in the mood for disagreement right now - I just needed to get justice and to sort Cassadee and her sins out once and for all.

"I am worrying about you and not just about you and that massive ego of yours, but about number seven and their family and friends that you'll affect by removing them from the living." The boy has no respect for justice in the slightest, and that's a sin - a sin that'll get him places he doesn't want to be.

"I'll assure that this is all entirely her fault and choice." I reassured him, meeting his gaze as sincerely as I could muster.

"How does that even make any sense?"

"Jacky, she's been flirting with me. She's sinned; she's lusted. She wants me to take her home... I just haven't specified what's going to happen when she gets here."

He met me with stern and disgusted eyes, ones that I didn't fail to return in double strength and double hatred. "So you're just going to fuck her, like the two times you did that to me."

That was fucking enough from him. I snarled, pushing him back up against the fridge and smirking in the horrific expression that lay upon his features so beautifully and I couldn't deny that I was lusting for him once again; I was lusting for him with all I had and I knew I could fulfil that lust, but I just wasn't sure as to whether I would yet.

"I can make a third time, Jacky, if you don't learn your fucking place." He whimpered as I swept his fringe from his face; his eyes trembled with fear and I basked in it. "That's a good boy, isn't it?"

"Y-Yes..."

"Yes what?" I snapped at him, demanding respect in the name of God and our prevention upon sin.

"Yes sir." I smirked in my title; discipline was necessary, and I loved it more than anything else in this earth.

"Good Jacky." I grabbed him tightly by the wrist. "You're not going to cause trouble tonight." I pushed the words into his head like a mantra.

"I'm not." He repeated, looking up at me with those big innocent eyes that made me laugh in the face of humanity, because God was not one to tempt and yet here he brought me Jack with his big brown eyes and sweet personality. It made very little sense in my opinion.

"Yes, I'm making sure of that." I dragged him down the corridor into his bedroom, disregarding my minor questioning within God's judgement due to my morals and the righteousness I held inside.

"What?" He let out a panicked yelp as I pushed him down and made no hesitation in chaining him to the bed. This wasn't lustful - this was disciplinary. I brought justice, not corruption, despite what Jack liked to think.

"Just to make sure you don't come out when you're not needed. This is temporary though; don't worry that pretty like head of yours." I ruffled his hair, whispering sweet nothings of reassurance into the mahogany strands. Humans seemed to love, even feed off that reassurance, even when it was nothing but untruthful - I never quite understood it.

"Alex-" He looked up into my eyes with those little pleading eyes; those eyes that could change my mind in a heartbeat, but this time, those eyes were irrelevant.

"Jacky, this isn't negotiable." I returned, my words stern as I gave him a small wave as I proceeded to leave the room. "And I prefer it if you didn't scream - I wouldn't like to gag you."

"Alex... are you going to fuck her?" His shy voice snaked into the air; the words barely audible yet far too loud for my preferences.

"No, of course not Jacky." I whispered soothingly, disgusted at even the thought that this was in anyway lustful. "I'd never do that - I love you."

"But you're going to kill her."

"Jacky, you know I have to. It's justice - it's right." I reassured him, but he met my eyes with a question look; one that didn't believe and one that God didn't like.

"But the thing is that you don't see is that, Alex, you don't have to!"

I glared at my boyfriend, the sin in him outraging me and both turning me on at the same time. The latter of course, I wasn't quite so proud of. "I will gag you, Jacky. Would you like that? Would it make you sin? Would it make you lust for me, Jacky? Wouldn't it make you just love to touch yourself, even now with these chains, you just can't?"

"Alex-" He choked out, his eyes widened, red, and raw.

"Disturbing you am I, Jacky?"

"No, sir, no not at all." He stammered out.

I chuckled, watching amused as he crawled back into his shell, "don't lie to me."

"I'm not sir, I, I, I promise."

"Shut it whore!" And with that, I was gone; I had business more important than whores to attend to. Lust was irrelevant and to be put aside in God's name.

I had business involving her; number seven. Cassadee she said her name was. That's a pretty name, but it'd simply be prettier when it's on a tomb stone, don't you think? Prettier on my list of names. Prettier indeed. She's a pretty thing, but she simply doesn't compare to Jack. Jack is what I think may just be my soul mate, and Cassadee; she's just another pretty little thing that decided it best to get in the way. I decided otherwise.

And whores that want to get in the way, are whores to be stopped, and I'm ready now, because she's coming over in the next few minutes and it'll be a good few minutes, because it'll be her last few minutes alive - not that she'd ever know that... it's just a little thought to pass on how she'd spend them. She would of course waste them - I know she will waste them.

Humans are wasteful - they don't appreciate life and its gifts. I'm teaching her a lesson here, surely.

-

"Hello Alex." She walked in like she wants it; she walked in without invitation, just a nudge upon the unlocked door. Sin within its entirety.

"Hello Cassadee." I looked up from my seat at the table, feeling the bulge of the gun in my pocket and just how pretty her head would look with a bullet hole through it.

"Do sit down." I commanded, and she took a seat across from me.

"You have a really nice place like wow you're fucking rich!" She exclaimed, looking around and admiring the marble - I never got any of this from Jacky, and maybe that was a good thing, but right now - right now, I just wasn't quite sure.

"Thank you." I mused in response, pouring her some wine. Her wine being sedated of course, and mine being fine.

It wasn't just any sedative though - I had carefully picked the best sedative for the job; I was going to ensure that this job would be complete - she just couldn't walk away from this. My seventh victim would die, and this time I would be successful - things wouldn't go like they had with Jacky.

Because she was stupid and reckless and she was going to pay for that - she was going to pay for all of that.

"The wine's delicious." She commented, gulping the whole glass down like a good little whore. Intoxicating herself with sin; sin that only justice could fix, which of course made the odds only lay further in my favour.

"Thank you." I winked at her, sipping mine much more eloquently, sitting back as I watched and waited for the sedative to take effect. It was a wonderful, if not patient show.

"So tell me about yourself." I strung the command out in an attempt to bring a casual flair to my words.

"Oh, I ugh have a best friend called Lisa and she's really into men, if you get what I mean." I smiled at her, knowing instantly why the two of them were friends now. "She can't stay focused on one man for a minute."

"How about yourself?" I winked at her, pulling the lust out like I was using a magnet. "You've barely told me anything about yourself."

"I am currently single and searching for someone who isn't a complete utter asshole." She really should've added someone who isn't a serial killer to that list, but I guess it's too late now.

"Well you've certainly gone on a date with the wrong guy then." I winked at her, basking in the simple fact that she didn't know I was a murderer. I loved that now she didn't know of the six people I killed and how much I loved watching them die. She didn't know any of that; it was euphoric, like when I first met Jack. It was the feeling of winning outright, because the other person didn't know they were losing, let alone even playing the game in the first place.

"I'm sure I haven't - you seem charming to me." She pulled a grin over her lipstick hugged lips.

"Oh, thank you." I smirked watching as the sedative began to take effect - it was a beautiful process really, one brought only be justice and sent from God himself.

"I feel a little dopey." She let out a giggle, "and I've only had one glass - are you sure this is wine and not fucking pure alcohol."

"I can assure you it isn't pure alcohol." I can't however assure you that it's purely wine.

"That... that's reassuring-" And before she could finish her sentence she was out against the table, leaving a smirk over my lips.

I grabbed her body and took it to Jack's original room, chaining her to the wall. She looked so innocently beautiful there; out of it all. I wondered if I should let her wake up just to have the arrogant last word.

My index finger hugged the trigger as I played with the gun in my hand. I imagined just how much fun I could have with her alive; the knife game, everything I did with Jack, even if it risked having her alive it was worth it, because she wasn't like Jack at all - she was just a stupid little whore.

Jack had one brain cell at the very least.

-

Jack - 21:46

"So you've killed her now, have you?" I snarled as Alex strode into the room, a smug expression laden upon his face. He looked proud of himself - he actually looked fucking proud of himself for this as if he's fucking achieved something other than a possible life sentence upon the charge on man slaughter.

"Oh, no, I'm going to have so much more fun with her than that, Jacky." He pulled the words from his lips, his voice a low and buzzing purr that soothed me in a manner that I wasn't quite comfortable with.

"So you are going to fuck her, aren't you? I knew it! You're fucking disgusting, you know that!" Of course I knew I was disgusting - in fact, I prided myself in that fact itself.

"Oh, no of course not - there are other ways to have fun than sex, but I wouldn't expect a whore like you to know that of course!"

"Shut the fuck up! So what have you done to her?" I slammed my words out and into him, praying for any visible effect, but of course I found myself underestimating him once again, because there was none.

"She's tied up like you Jacky." He continued, rolling the words off his tongue like they were in fact nothing and not what held the life of number seven hanging in the balance. "In that very room - imagine that, hey, imagine that."

"So she's your mistakes with me corrected basically." I glared at him, feeling slightly ridiculed by the fact.

"Oh you weren't a mistake at all; in fact you were just about the only thing that went right."

"So what are you going to do to her?" I demanded, my words however not quite coming with the kind of bite I desired.

"Whatever I want - but she'll die eventually don't you worry. You're my real whore, Jacky. Always." He reached forward and brushed the hair from my eyes.

"That's not a compliment, Alex." I persisted, but he simply shook his head, deciding otherwise for me.

"Oh, Jacky, it is to me. It is to me."

"So this girl's going to die to prove to you that I'm yours?" I snapped, horrified by the concept.

"No, she's going to die because she was ignorant and stupid and she tempted me to cheat on you - she's number seven and that's how things go."

"She doesn't have to be number seven though - she has a name, a life, a family, friends and a future. She deserves all of that, and I bet, I bet you don't even know her name."

"I said I wasn't that tacky." I raised my eyebrows, almost insulted, but this time, not quite.

"So, what is it then?"

"It's Cassadee - her name's Cassadee."

-

Jack. Day Twenty One - 17:15

There's no doubt in the fact that it's her.

I'm not being paranoid - not this time, and I'm well aware of the fact that she's not the only Cassadee in America. She just seems to fit entirely; everything makes sense and falls into place.

All her chats about this guy she was kind of crushing on, all of them fitted perfectly to Alex, and it had just been our two incompetent minds put together that were seemingly unable to connect the pieces back to this, back to Alex.

Alex said he was good, but I never realised he could be quite this good. To fool one of us was expected but to fool the both of us, especially when we were both in close contact with him and each other. That was just phenomenal, and overall very Alex.

I wasn't at all impressed though, by any means, this was all just nothing short of sickening, and my stomach had become a butterfly garden over the past day. I'd barely gotten any sleep; I'd been tossing and turning all night, and I was guilty to admit that Cassadee was only half of what was keeping me awake. The other half being the sound of the lock clicking as a key turned in the hole and then the echoed footsteps as Alex walked away.

He knows I want her to live, and he's far too determined to put a stop to that to even consider my own human rights for a second now. Killing drives him, and believe me, it's more than terrifying.

I can't even beg him to stop, because my only convincing argument lies in the fact that she's Cassadee, and she's my friend. I very much doubt Alex would take kindly to the fact that I'd been talking to her over the internet, and the fact that I had indeed spilled the truth about him out to her over email, but it was too late.

My message had been too late, leaving this nothing short of my fault.

She's was going to die because of me, and I couldn't stop it at all.

I wondered if Alex would keep me locked up in here until the deed was done, ensuring the safety of his seventh victim over my own sanity and basic human needs, because Alex, he just didn't get humanity. The concept was entirely foreign to him, and I think there was nothing more terrifying than an intelligent monster in human skin.

The fact that I was still desperately in love with him was slowly burning away at both my heart and sanity, and he knew this far too well, playing it all to his advantage like the sick, heartless bastard he was.

He didn't care that we had emotions; he didn't care about me at all and he certainly didn't care for Cassadee either, and the only real difference between the two of us, was that she didn't have the painstaking wait before she met her of course inevitable fate.

Because as much as Alex sugar-coated the situation with whichever lie fitted the moment best, it was always there - the fact that I would end up dead. Alex bought me here to kill me - not for me to fall in love with him. The latter was simply an unexpected consequence, which Alex had decided to play around with an exploit to his best ability.

But, of course, once all the benefits had been reaped, and I'd served my purpose, the inevitable would catch up with me and I'd meet the fate that had been chasing me ever since I took that drink at Joe's party, near enough three weeks ago.

The formula to staying alive though was disastrously simple; I just had to stay in love with him and let him use me, and then I'd be breathing and I'd be an asset, but I didn't want that anymore. I didn't want to be used and I didn't want to be a help in his mission of human annihilation, and I most certainly didn't want to be his casual fuck when he needed one.

And I wasn't going to be that anymore; I was going all out. I'm either his boyfriend, or I was his boyfriend, now residing six feet under yet in a place far better than this.

The indifference towards your own demise is surely the first sign of insanity, but when I spend every day with Alex Gaskarth, not quite seems insane to me at all anymore.

-

23:08

The fact that I was still here said it all; the four walls, slowly seeming to close in on me read my fate to me as if it was written all over them, and by now I think I'd begun to accept it, or as close to acceptance of your own murder could be.

This was surprisingly close, when I thought about it, and I was calm to this situation to the point I almost felt paranoid regarding just how relaxed I was.

My thoughts were broken apart into little fragments with one heavy knock against the locked door. There was no question in who it was; the confusion lay in why he even bothered knocking. If he was happy to lock me in a room all night then I shouldn't see why he felt the need to respect my privacy right now. Alex was a subject of confusion though, so the never did lie in plain sight.

"Jack?" He called in, receiving no reply - I didn't want to talk to him and even if he barged in here and slapped me across the face, that still wouldn't change. And of course, another that would remain stationary in that situation would be the fact that Alex wouldn't care; he's stubborn, he'd persist to the very end. He'd make me talk - one way or another.

"You in there?" Yes, because I'd escaped the locked bedroom with no windows. But of course the escape route for this room was probably straight forward in Alex's overdeveloped head, and he was probably going through the ignorant procedure of assuming the same for me.

"Mmm..." I mumbled aloud, not quite bothered to form together a decent reply, because I didn't reckon he deserved one. My reckoning was probably right, despite what he or anyone maybe argue. It was my reckoning, and therefore it should only matter that it was right in my mind.

"What's wrong now?" He let out with an exasperated sigh, almost as if he was tired of my bullshit, which he probably was, and as if the situation was entirely my fault, which for once, it definitely wasn't. His ignorance could only protect him from so much; the reality of the situation - the fact that this was his fault, still stood strong.

He knew what was wrong, and he knew what he was doing right now was wrong, but he was ignorant to deem that worth ignoring in his head, assuming the answer to only lay elsewhere. I wondered as to what he could possibly think was the matter, because whatever angle I looked at it from, I only ever encountered one problem and that one problem was always him.

When in reply he received nothing but silence, the abundance of noise was filled with the click of the lock and the door swinging open, Alex's eyes widening as he saw me sat perfectly calmly on the bed, almost as if he'd been expecting that I'd hung myself or something. That would save him a job though, wouldn't it?

No, he'd want to do it himself. He'd want the pleasure of ending my life and cackling in the death he'd caused, because he's a sadistic fuck and he lusts for that kind of thing, and it's disgusting, and I'm more than welcoming of the concept of hating him for it, but with this stupid heart of mine, it's something I just can't quite manage to achieve.

"Jacky?" He pulled his face into that ridiculous pout, using those exact sad eyes that maybe I would have fallen for three weeks ago, but now it was simply as if he had the word 'liar' written in permanent marker across his forehead.

Hmm... I think maybe it should be in blood, seeing as that was more of Alex's style. Or maybe just pills. Liar: written in neat little rows of fucking pills of all shapes and sizes.

"What's wrong?" He pondered further into the silence, sitting down on the end of the bed beside me, seemingly disappointed when even that didn't revoke any kind of response from me; negative or positive - by now, it didn't seem to matter. I didn't seem to matter to him at all, though, did I?

"Jacky, tell me." He looked ridiculous, pulling the weakness mask over his face, unaware of its many tears and holes, allowing me to stare straight at the eyes of the guy who'd killed six people and was nearly at his seventh.

He pleaded to the point I was going to burst out with laughter at any moment, but I wasn't sure that'd quite have the desired effect so I met his gaze instead, my lips parting momentarily to let two little yet dangerously important words fall through.

"You know."

He shook his head to the point of convincingness where he was leading me to believe that he believed he was innocent too, but I managed to push the thought off, because Alex was incredibly manipulative and this would have been nothing short of his intentions.

"Jacky, I don't know, I promise you. Is it something I've done?" His lips parted open a fraction, sucking in a gasp of air like he desperately needed one, almost like a smoke drawing in their first breath of nicotine from their first cigarette after a hard day at work. Except the substance he craved wasn't nicotine, it was oxygen.

We all need oxygen, but the way Alex sucked it in with precision made the act of breathing almost look deliberate; the way his cheeks hollowed out slightly, exposing his cheek bone structure and pouting his lips a little as he pulled the cold air in through his mouth.

It made him look like he needed this specially over the subconscious act of inhaling and exhaling through our nostrils, because this wasn't just breathing, somehow this was different.

Everything about Alex was different, when I thought about it; even the way he blinked wasn't normal - his eyes flickered irregular and sometimes not at all for a few minutes straight. It was almost like he could forget to blink and had to process his every subconscious action through the whole of his brain.

Though if his subconscious was actually controlled consciously, that would explain how he just knows everything. The extra brain space was surely nothing short of an asset.

"It's not something you've done, it's something you're about to do." I didn't know why I answered his question; I think maybe the silence was getting to me too. The silence quietened my thoughts too, along space in my conscious mind for insanity to creep throw and run rampant, and I wasn't going to let that happen.

"Number seven..." He let out a deep sigh, his eyes drifting away, scared to meet mine; the whole Alex Gaskarth - serial killer facade washing away within seconds, and for real this time. It was actually kind of unnerving to see the 'human' side underneath the surface of malicious sadism. "You don't understand, but this is something I have to do."

"Cassadee." I corrected him, fighting the urge to slap the confused look straight off his face. "Her name's Cassadee."

"I know."

"Then call her that - she's just as important as you are. I think she deserves to be referred to by her name not by her sentence, especially now that she's going to live another day at most." I hated the feeling of putting a time limit on Cassadee's remaining life, but I couldn't blame myself - I had to do so, and after all, Alex had put the limit there first, and it was in fact him who was the one enforcing it.

"You're just pissed because I locked you in here." Alex again dodged the situation at hand here entirely, just like the true coward he was, because he'd really only killed those six to prove himself, to push the cowardice away from him, and quite honestly, it just hadn't worked at all.

"No, I'm upset because she doesn't deserve to die!" I protested, but he simply shook his head in response, dragging me by the wrist and out of the room.

"Look, you're out of there now. Okay, I was bad not to trust you then, but I trust you now." He left me to follow him as he walked into the kitchen, and I was just nervous about entering the kitchen after what I'd walked in on a few days ago, and how very little had been done about it whatsoever; my whole life was just nothing short of a mess of insanity right now. "Look, do whatever, just don't go anywhere near her, okay?"

I slowly nodded, my fingers behind my back, crossed as tightly as they could be - because I would make sure she lived even if it was the last thing I did, and considering Alex's repulsion towards my opinion on the matter, it very well might be, but that was a risk I was prepared to take. "I'm sure you'll be reinforcing that, won't you?" I let out a tiresome sigh.

"I'm going to see Flyzik - I need to pick something up-" I didn't let him finish before I formed a terrible yet true assumption in my head.

"You're getting some more pills: your next fix-"

"No, I'm not!" He snapped over my words, meeting my gaze in a way that didn't fail to make me uncomfortable and for my words to be cut off, and the end of my sentence ceasing to exist. "They're not for me."

"They're for her." I let out a sigh and he nodded; the gesture was very brief and barely noticeable, but it was there and it did happen. "Alex-"

"Would you prefer I shot her through the heart whilst she was awake and could feel it all - they're not poisons, Jacky - they're sedatives." I rolled my eyes, his words meaning very little to me, because whatever they were exactly, they were still just pills and they were still going to be used to aid him in Cassadee's death.

"Is Flyzik even going to sell you any after what happened last time?" I pushed forward a point, unsure as to what impact it could possibly have, but I went for it regardless, maybe just because I was getting desperate now, maybe just because.

"He does business - if I'm paying, he's selling. He just doesn't want to be involved in the clean up this time." Alex even tried to laugh it off but I shook my head sternly, wondering how the fuck he could find the image of him passed out on the kitchen floor with his head cracked open and surrounded with a rainbow of pills and poisons.

"What, so who is? Me?" I pointed a finger to my chest.

"Maybe you are." He snapped, meeting my eyes with glaring that made me shiver far more than I was at all comfortable admitting. "With this attitude, maybe you fucking are."

And with that, the door was slammed behind me, and I was left alone with Cassadee and an Alex driven by adrenaline that had left him careless enough to slam his room keys down right on the kitchen counter top, barely half a metre away from me.

There wasn't a chance in hell that I wasn't going to use them - I didn't care.

Alex had underestimated me, by far. I think he needed proving wrong for once, to break this god complex of his in two and push him back down into his rightful place.

-

23:48

As I turned the keys in the lock I didn't even expect them to work and was awfully shocked to see the door swing open with very little resistance or extra security, but then I realised just how arrogant Alex was, seeing no need for maximum security at all.

There wasn't long I could marvel at the ease of this situation before Cassadee perked up, her eyes meeting mine for the first time except this wasn't at all how I expected this to be or wanted it for that matter, because her eyes were filled with anger, because she thought I do the same as Alex, and she didn't know who I was.

"What are you? The reinforcements?" She snapped, her voice sounding weirdly different to how I'd imagined it - the two of us having rather contrasting accents, but I realised the way she spoke was really the least of my concern right now.

"No, I'm not." I shook my head firmly to enforce my point. "I'm here to get you out of here."

At first she met me with raised eyebrows and a disbelieving gaze before she broke into laughter - she didn't believe me, and it hurt, but I couldn't blame her at all - Alex had probably tried a trick like this on her before, just to play with her emotions, because it was Alex, and fucking loved the exhilaration of being a sadistic asshole.

"Nice fucking try, kid."

"No, I'm serious." I took a step closer, holding the keys up in my hand and finding the one I remembered Alex using for the handcuffs when I'd been in them. I hated how I remembered it down to that detail, but I guess now it had proven necessary.

"Go on then, unlock the cuffs." She held up her hands as much as the handcuffs would allow, almost watching me in awe as I walked over and unlocked them, the cuffs snapping right off. She looked entirely as if she had expected the key to vanish as soon as I held it between my fingers.

She stood up instantly, looking me down with wary eyes before stepping backwards a little. "What's the catch?"

"What?"

"There's always a catch - what is it?" She demanded for a second time, glancing around the room for either an escape route or a weapon - I didn't know which, but I knew it was probably one of the two.

"There's no catch." I met her gaze. "I promise."

She shook her head in disbelief. "Why should I trust you? How can I trust you? He's probably waiting right outside the door."

"You can trust me, Cassadee."

"At least you bothered to learn my name, but that still isn't trust." She was painfully defiant, and I knew I was going to have to come clean if I wanted to get her out of here before Alex returned.

"You can trust me Cassadee, because..." I paused, the words lodging in my throat, getting stuck to the point I felt like I'd choke on them if I didn't manage to spit them out soon.

"Because?" She looked at me with raised eyebrows, gesturing with her hands to signify the absence of my explanation, simply accentuating the silence further.

I let out a deep sigh, coming out with it all at once, "because, because I'm Jack."

-

Jack. Day Twenty Two - 0:23

"I can't just leave you here!" Her words leapt from her lips in a seemingly forced tone of urgency, grabbing me by the wrist as we stood in the hallway, where she remained, despite my every effort to convince her to leave while she still could.

"You can though, Cassadee." I stumbled on the final word, finding it just so weird to say her name aloud, and hating myself for that, and how it further highlighted the fact that nothing could be quite normal in my life, and nothing ever would be.

In fact, having had far too much time to reflect upon it, nothing has ever really been normal in my life. I grew up in my brother's shadow with very little friends and far too many comic books. That was just how I was, though, and you know what? Oddly enough, I was content; I was happy with that.

I've changed now, and there's no way around the fact that Alex has very forcefully changed me. Alex didn't ask, Alex didn't baby me; Alex did what he liked and left me to cope with the aftermath, going on the small chance that it wouldn't render me a total wreck, and holding nothing back. I wasn't quite sure if I liked the change at all - I just knew that I could never go back to being that dorky kid with the glasses and no friends, not now anyway.

And you know what, I'm not sure I even want to.

"This isn't how we should have met." She seemed to have taken the words right from my lips, looking at me from behind eyes that had glossed over with a certain sadness that had been inflicted upon her by none other than Alex, and I should have hated him for that; for hurting Cassadee, I really should have, but I found myself stuck in an awful predicament where I just couldn't.

And that fucked me up.

"I know it isn't, Cassadee, but here isn't where you should stay." I pushed my point further, simply praying that Alex wouldn't walk in on the two of us like this, because that would certainly be something he wouldn't take kindly to.

He'd lock her back up within an instant; rendering my escape attempt entirely pointless, which would of course make me feel utterly pathetic, and of course, god knows what he'd do to me, and honestly I had this sinking feeling that deep down, I knew too, and I just didn't want to admit it to myself, but for my sanity's sake alone, I pushed that feeling aside.

"You shouldn't stay here either then." She chirped out as if this really wasn't a matter of life or death for her; she just didn't get it - she didn't get it at all.

I let out a sigh, attempting to explain, but she got in there before me, almost as if she'd planned this all out like Alex had planned both of our demises, the both of which were being put to a stop, and only mine by his own choice. Cassadee's life was in my hands now, and she was going to stay alive.

"Don't be a hypocrite, Jack. You're more important than me - as I got myself into this mess." She was now opting for the depressive route, which she seemed to be blind to the fact that it would only make me feel even more guiltily sorry for her.

"Don't you think I got myself into my own mess too?" I glanced at her behind raised eyebrows and a skeptical gaze, wondering if she was doing this on purpose or whether she was really that ignorant in real life. She seemed almost perfect online, but I guess, people are never quite what they seem.

She shrugged my query off as if it was nothing, the words almost bouncing off her skin like heavy rain against a locked window; there was no hope of getting in, but the drops still fell - I still tried anyway.

"Depends." Came her final answer; vague and almost useless in nature.

"On what?" I enquired into her vague response.

"Jack, just tell me everything, please." She pushed out, meeting my eyes in one final look of hope. "Please." She persisted despite my solemn expression, and despite the fact that every signal I was giving her blared 'not going to happen' up in big flashing letters.

"You don't want to know, Cass-"

"I have to know." She was very fucking wrong

"You really don't though." I always thought Cassadee and I were on the same wavelength but now, for once, she really just didn't get it.

"I've seen enough. I've seen him drug me and threaten to kill me, to toy with my emotions, and lie to me over and over. Just tell me what else I need to know - it's better hearing it from you, Jack, I promise you that." I continued in my decline of her request, shaking my head firmly once again, and watching as she got pissed off and slipping my gaze away, falling into the realisation that I could do nothing about it whatsoever.

"I've seen things you don't want to know, Cassadee. These are things that still give me nightmares to this day, and I promise you, that these are things you'd wish you never knew about-"

"He's your boyfriend, so he's nice to you so shut the fuck up about what 'I don't want to know', Jack!" And that was the first time Cassadee had ever been vaguely angry at me and it fucking hurt. Maybe because she was my only friend, or maybe it was simply because she'd been so nice to me, and it almost felt inhuman to see her like this.

"I'm sorry." She let out with a sigh, leaning against the wall about a metre away from me, watching as my top teeth furiously tore away into the reddened flesh of my bottom lip. "I just- you're not explaining: I can't understand."

"The thing is Cassadee, I'm just like you." And once I'd started, I knew the rest would follow shortly, regardless of whether I wanted it to or not, which for the record, I really did not. "I wasn't always his boyfriend, because in the beginning he just thought I was pretty in the way he thinks you are-"

"He doesn't think I'm pretty - he doesn't like me at all." Cassadee snapped back within an instant; this was some sort of reflex girls seemed to have. Whenever the word pretty was even vaguely mentioned in a sentence they'd always have to announce their belief that they were ugly to everyone nearby.

It pissed me off, to say the least.

"He does." I let out amidst a sigh, because despite the truth, I really didn't want him to. "He's picky. He doesn't go after people whom he doesn't find appealing."

"I was at my brother's party when we first met," I continued my long sought after explanation, catching Cassadee's attention immediately, and thankfully burying our prior conversation where no one would ever find it again. "I didn't particularly want to be there, but my brother made me just help out and shit, so I was just kind of stood there in the corner and then, yeah the cutest guy I've ever seen walks up to me, and it's Alex."

I let out a sigh, hating the sickening feeling in my stomach that sort of came as a buy one get one free with the memories. "I don't drink, but he convinced me to have a beer."

One drink can't hurt.

"And?" She broke me out of my memories within an instant, which I suppose was something to be thankful for, but the continued explanation that was expected to follow, was not.

"I woke up in a dark room chained to a wall, and Alex was the only person I saw for the next three weeks, and things, they just get worse from there." These memories were quite possibly the worst; the things Alex did to me were things I never even wished upon my worst of enemies- not that I really had any enemies anymore; I didn't seen anyone other than Alex, Cassadee, and Flyzik now, and the latter of the two were rare occasions.

Alex was all I had now, and that was how he had intended it to be.

"But- you were talking to me on a computer?" She sent me an expression that alternated between confusion and shock. "How did you get a computer?"

"It was a guilt present- or well, as close to guilt as Alex gets." I admitted, biting down on my lip as I came to remember just what he was feeling guilty for - the accidents, or well, the series of 'accidents'.

The repeated accidents that happened again, that happened on purpose. The reoccurring accidents that never went away either in reality or in my mind. The accidents that linger in my head all that time.

"Why, what did he do to you?" And yet after that, she still continued.

"Please, just leave while you can." I begged, gesturing towards the door, almost motioning out to shove her out. I could do that; I could push her out and lock the door after her, but then she wouldn't hide, and Alex would find her - Alex would figure it all out and punish the both of us, which would only worsen our situation.

The aim was to save her, and whatever happened to me was irrelevant as long as Cassadee was okay; I owed her.

"Leave with me - if he's done such bad shit to you then why don't you, Jack? It just doesn't make sense, okay?" She let out with a sigh, pulling a hand back through her hair as we shared an unspoken thought regarding just how fucked up this all was.

"What? Do you not believe me?" I was almost offended. I say almost, because I didn't blame her and honestly I would have preferred to be able to not believe myself.

"Of course I believe you, Jack." She let out a reassuring gasp of almost offense to the fact that I would have believed such a thing, when really, she shouldn't have blamed me.

"I still love him, Cassadee." My voice leaked out as nothing above a whisper, not quite wanting to really admit the truth aloud. "Despite everything, I still love him, and you know what? I just hate that. I hate it more than anything, because I'm just fucking pathetic."

"That's what love is though - without question and without rationality. It's the content in being pathetic for someone."

"But I don't want to love him - he doesn't love me."

"I disagree with that. Clearly, if he kidnapped you and now you're living comfortably and happy with him then surely he loves you." She pushed a point forward, but it was a point that just didn't quite fit; she didn't know what really happened - she didn't know how things really were.

"No." I shook my head with a sigh, not wanting let the next the few words slip from my lips despite how much they demanded to be free. "He's killed six people. He isn't capable of love."

Her breath sharpened into a gasp, yet somehow after a moment she pulled back on her cool facade like it was nothing, and that just puzzled me beyond belief; it reminded me of Alex and that made me sick. I rationalised her behaviour in the fact that she was simply doing it to make things easier for me, but the longer I pondered over it, the more it sounded like something Alex would do.

"Everyone's capable of love, Jack."

"Not everyone, not always."

"Even a heart clinging on by one heartstring is a heart still beating. We're human, we thrive from others. We're selfish; we demand others. We're lustful; we demand lovers. We're corrupted; we destroy every single pure thing left on this planet."

"And now I see why he insists he isn't human." I let out with a sigh, not quite wanting to believe in love or Alex, and how he didn't love me.

"And we're liars too. He lied about that, he lied because he's in love with you, because we crave love, but we get too much of it and that's how things mess up. Everything's dangerous in large quantities, and as creatures of greed we take everything with no self-control."

"Fuck..." I let out a sigh, pushing all of this shit out of my head as much as I could manage to.

"Jack, come on, let's go." She demanded for what she seemed to hope would be the final time.

"No." I was stern by now. "You can't just tell me that and expect me to leave.

"But humans are liars, how do you know I was telling the truth?" She winked at me, toying with me beyond fucking belief, leaving me quaking within the fact that Alex's words had somehow had some sort of effect on her.

"Maybe I trust you." I admitted.

"Maybe you shouldn't." I nodded in response; indifferent to the idea. "I don't want to leave you here, Jack." She continued, her eyes soft and sorrowful; almost out of place on the face that hugged around a smile so easily.

"I don't want to leave you here, Cassadee." I mimicked her tone to match my words.

"But you're not going anywhere, Jack." She persisted, despite just how stupid her point was, and just how easy it was for me to manipulate.

"You're very right in that fact." I met her gaze for what I hoped would be the final time as I gestured to the door.

"Fuck." She let out a breath, as she ran a hand through her hair, the blonde streaks blending amongst the brown.

"Cass, please, just go while you can." I begged her and she let out a sigh.

"I can't just leave you, Jack. You're not safe."

"I've been fine up to now, so I'll be fine later." I promised her a promise I really couldn't keep, but it was a kind of a comfort promise, or at least that's what I told myself to keep myself sane. Justification was my favourite kind of lying, and of course, the one I was best at.

"Not really, you won't." She let out a sigh. "You just like to tell yourself that." She was right though, and I wasn't going to outright lie to her or at least I didn't think so. I couldn't predict my own actions these days, though.

"Maybe, I do. But Cassadee, please just go while you can - I want to save you; I know he wants to kill you. I know you're his seventh and I know I can stop that, and I have to. I can't have you die, Cassadee." I met her eyes; pleading and guilty. "Please."

"You deserve so much more than him, Jack." She sighed, her gaze drifting downwards towards the floor. "I promise you that."

"I don't want anyone other than him, though."

"I know - love is blind."

"Love is stupid." I corrected her.

"Love is stupid, indeed." She found herself nodding in agreement. "Look." She grabbed a pen off the side and scribbled a series of digits across my arm. "Call me if you need me, Jack, okay?"

"Okay." I nodded, despite the fact I knew Alex would not let me anywhere near a phone at all ever; somehow the internet was another matter. Alex didn't make sense. "Stay safe, Cassadee."

"You too, Jack, okay?"

"Okay."

I shouldn't have missed her with the slam of the door, because she was safe now and that was all that mattered.

But I did.

Alex's aftermath was mine to deal with and mine to deal with alone. I didn't care what he did or said to me - it wouldn't be anything new after all. I didn't care.

But I did.

All that mattered to me was that I had saved someone, because unlike Alex I lived for the good in life; I knew that saving an innocent life meant more than protecting myself from punishment, because whatever you did, as long as it was right was important, no matter the circumstances at all.

Alex was wrong, very wrong when he said that he and I were alike. I didn't think we were even together anymore. I didn't want us to be now.

But, I really did.

-

Alex. 1:12

"Flyzik, gimme the fucking pills." I made a drunken grasp for the white capsules in his hand but he snatched them away before I reached them; the alcohol slowing my reflexes considerably.

"Alex, we've been through this." He grumbled, putting the pills away and out of sight as if I were a toddler who might forget about something simply by not seeing it any longer.

"Well, I'm approaching the subject again." I slurred out, reaching for another can of beer, leaving Flyzik to shoot me a dirty look.

"Please tell me you're not driving home after all this much."

"I live across town, Matt. How else would I get home?" I giggled in response.

"Maybe you should've brought that boyfriend of yours with you." He suggested, referencing Jack in a manner I didn't like at all.

"He has to look after her; my seventh."

"You're killing again- fuck-" The pills dropped out of his hand, hitting the floor with such an impact that they smashed into an unusable powder. "Fucking hell - you owe me at least two hundred just from those few."

"I ain't paying you shit if you won't give me what I need." I persisted in my greed filled pleads.

"I'm not letting you kill again." Flyzik said as if a mother to her child, despite the unlikely content of her words.

"You're not my fucking mother, Flyzik." I spat on him in the most childish manner, but I think my drunkenness kind of made up for it, or at least that's how I justified it.

Life is about justifying your mistakes and not regretting anything, because there is no greater pride than pride within yourself. People disagree, but I've heard it from the angels; I've heard it straight from God and I know I'm right. I am usually right, though. God did choose me for a reason.

"Yeah, if I was your mother I would have abandoned you by now, but seeing as I'm your dealer and you pay like hell, I kind of want you to stick around." He grumbled, glancing back up at his stash.

"I could just get another dealer you know. I kind of like you though, Flyzik, and you're loyal and deserve my hard earned cash, I think. But I could just as easily get want I want off someone else you know. I'm going to get this shit tonight, whether it's from you or not-"

"Fuck, fine, arsehole, what do you want?"

"Now, that's my man, Flyzik. Knew, you'd see things in the right light with a little persuasion."

-

"How do you even get this much money, dude? Or is that a something I don't want to know?" He commented, counting out hundred dollar bills in his hand.

"I'd opt for the latter, but you're you, what is there you don't' want to know."

"The details of your sex life." He offered and I laughed in response. "Seriously, though Alex, don't do anything stupid."

"I won't', I'm on god's path. I know exactly what I'm doing, and how to do it."

And of course, just who to kill.

-

Alex. Day Twenty Three - 3:46

"Disgusting." The word left my lips for what felt like the thousandth time tonight, but with a mind as intoxicated as mine, it was particularly difficult to keep count.

"Disgusting!" There it came again, but this time with more force, more venom, more meaning; the power behind the word seemed to increase with every occasion in which it left my lips.

"Disgusting." The third time within this minute seemed like just enough, and the look on little precious Jacky's face was enough to sell me right into satisfaction, even if it was nothing but false: the world is made of fakery alone, so any change in that matter, would be nothing short of alarming.

It was the only word on my lips; the only word that could truly harness the betrayal I felt towards Jack - the way he'd screwed this all up, letting Cassadee go despite my explicit instructions not to. He'd been disobedient, and the truth lay in nothing other than the fact that I really would just have to put a stop to that.

Disobedience did warrant punishment; that just came naturally - an unspoken rule of humanity, or at least in my mind it was so. And he'd committed the felony against me, so therefore my opinion was the one to matter, and of course it wasn't like there was anyone else around here to offer their opinion any more.

Maybe if number seven were still around, I would have allowed her to offer her input, and we'd see where we could go from there, but Jack had been arrogant enough to make a stupid decision and ensure that Casssadee was no more. In fact, if she was still around, you know what, we wouldn't be in this mess in the first place, so honestly, he's nothing but to blame for his own actions.

The boy's what? In his twenties by now? I presume so anyway, maybe I should force myself into feeling just a little bit more guilty towards my apparent inability to show any compassion whatsoever, but really guilt leads you down a long hard road into compassion and all kinds of equally worthless emotions, that all in all, are really not efficient in the slightest.

My apathy is an advantage. Apathy, of course, is always advantageous. Perhaps that's why it's socially outlawed; leaving the secret of success to the one's who can break out of the confines of a strict society and earn it - people like me.

Even God's on my side; he has his angels lined up for my protection and if I would ever need a sign that this is the right path, this is really all I need.

If the highest being in reality is on my side, then I'm in the power, I'm in the advantageous, the apathy, and I have the edge. This is right, and none of Jack's little human pleads otherwise can shake me.

Love is also unnecessary, especially what little I feel towards Jack - in fact, that's just pathetic, and really entirely his own concoction. I was just being civil to him, and therefore, he does in fact owe me. He owes me big time, and of course as the greedy, selfish little human he is, I return home - tired, intoxicated, and in state dependant of his care and what do I find?

I find him shaking; in the hallway shaking, and I almost tripped over him, and I almost felt bad, but in fact now, maybe now I wish I did; I wish I'd taught the brat a goddamn lesson, maybe I never should have let him freely around the house.

My trust is of course, again, wasted.

And the words that leave his lips as I meet his pathetically shaking figure are few in quantity but huge in meaning and that's enough to topple my whole mentality over for a few moments.

"I let her go."

He didn't even meet my eyes and explanation was simply unnecessary, because there was only one female for Jack now - number seven.

He seemed to like her far too much in my opinion. Perhaps it was jealous, but I figured on his part it was exploitation and I decided that maybe that was the greater sin here, and God was yet to correct me.

At least now she's gone, distraction isn't an issue, and his attention and loyalties are all focused upon me, but there is of course the issue of number seven.

Because with the absence of Cassadee, the absence of the need for a seventh doesn't follow.

I need a seventh, and perhaps after all of this mess, I'll listen to Jack's whimperings, even if they are reminiscent of a madman, and maybe I'll let him be number seven, but I am still horribly attached to the boy; physically as opposed to emotionally, of course.

I need him there to clean up my messes, not hug me and whisper nothingness into my ears after they've happened.

He's both in service and debt to me from now on, because no one's going to die today, or for even the next few days.

Jack though, is on probation, because I'm indecisive; half of me wants to take my pistol and let the loaded bullet pierce his heart and corrupt his bloodstream; the metallic taste of both blood and gun metal in his mouth being the last thing he'll experience before he's rendered nothing more than a memory.

The other half wants to wait. The other half is right, because the other half values patience and the rewards that come from it.

The other half wants to watch as he melts down into this state of shock, simply because it's entertaining, and boy, life has gotten significantly placid ever since Jack has managed to find himself securely living here, and I want that to change.

I want excitement.

I want to be entertained.

And honestly, Jack is the best boy for the job, so even if he is disgusting, maybe he'll have the chance to prove to me otherwise. But he'll never know that despite the little game I've entered him in, there's always a set ending.

This will always end the way I want - one way - something he'll never know. And that just adds more thrill to the already enthralling situation.

But I think the more important thing for him to never know is the fact that like him, I'm still unsure as to what this ending is, because deep down my heart's still clinging onto him; screaming his name like a broken record, and it hurts like hell, because he's clouding my mind, and that's somehow tricked it into thinking I need him, but really there's nothing physically addictive about Jack at all.

Emotional addiction, however, is another matter entirely.

Serving only to back up my point that apathy is the only way I'll make it out of this hell alive, and into God's kingdom of heaven, where the angels sing truths and justice is of the highest policy. A kingdom free of temptation and sin; a kingdom where people like Jack Barakat- temptations like Jack Barakat are not welcome.

And addiction in heaven is irrelevant, because God, he has the power to cleanse you of sins and impurities, but a martyr is of course a messy job, but the one that's right for me.

Jack Barakat is irrelevant.

And maybe if I say it to myself enough I might just believe it.

-

Jack - 4:01

"Disgusting." The word drilled itself into my ears for the third time; Alex essentially not seeing that maybe by the wreck I was, sat here moping around on his hallway floor that I had just about managed to accept that by now.

He'd made me a wreck for a simple purpose of acceptance towards my utter incompetence, and my stubborn tendencies. I could never just listen, could I? I could never quite just manage to keep my own thoughts to myself and get on with my own life; I just had to have an opinion, and I just had to be vocal about it.

I thought Alex of all people would have been the one to drill that lesson into my head, but it seemed otherwise. It was now apparent that not even Alex Gaskarth could set straight this uncalled for attitude of mine and I think that really constituted as hopelessness.

"I know." I croaked out, burying my face between my legs as the words unintentionally slipped from my lips; the lines of the real conversation and how it was going in my head blurring just a little too much.

Maybe it was just serving me right; karma coming up and biting my ass for being sad enough to run the perfect version of this conversation through my head, but maybe that sad little perfect conversation was the only thing keeping me sane these days, and so perhaps, maybe I needed that sad little perfect conversation an awful lot more than you'd reckon.

"Excuse me, you pathetic little-" I looked up, meeting his brown eyes and the way the fury almost seemed to turn them red, astonishing me within an instant. It was both unnerving and beautiful; an unorthodox concoction, yet one that perfectly fitted Alex like no other.

Alex was typically just very unorthodox in general, as was our relationship: who else knows their boyfriend is a serial killer and is still sadly very much in love with them?

Or maybe I'm just exceptionally pathetic and perhaps that why I'm still alive, but at least I'll look at the positives here - I'm exceptional, at the very least, and also, also I'm still alive, even if in my current situation that doesn't seem very permanent at all, it counts for something at the very least, I guess.

"You've stopped." My voice croaked out into the silence, my bravery increasing with every word with what could simply be described as utter foolishness. "You've stopped talking. You didn't finish your sentence- why didn't you finish your sentence?"

My voice came out as nothing more than a shaky stutter but it still managed to get the words out, even if it did give Alex the terrifying pleasure of seeing me undeniably scared of him, at least in my head I was being brave, because I was tired of his shit and I, Jack Barakat, was taking a stand, even if it didn't turn out to be a particularly permanent one, it was a stand nonetheless.

"Guess why, you disgusting little back-stabbing whore?" He snarled at me as he now proceeded in circling me in a manner uncomfortably reminiscent of a vulture. His eyes grew darker, the pupils swelling up balloons, except there was an utter lack of oxygen amidst the unnerving almost blackened orbs I had found myself confronted with, as I felt the utter inability to breath, the swollen pupils increasing to suck all the air from my lungs and keep it hostage there until I choked.

"Because maybe in that disgustingly sad existence of yours, you have a shred of empathy?" I chose to start with the impossible, because then I wouldn't be disappointed to be wrong, and in the one in a million chance, I'd be overjoyed to be write, but I was a realist and I knew that Alex Gaskarth and dear old empathy were simply not at all acquainted.

As expected he shook his head in what I recognised to be an almost mocking manner. "Empathy is irrelevant to someone like me. Empathy is inefficient and fucks you up in both the long and short term."

"You're just a sick fuck." I spat at him, turning a blind eye to consequence entirely, knowing that I was already more than screwed here. Alex was going to do something to me, and it would be his decision entirely - literally nothing I could ever say would influence that decision in the slightest, if he would even allow me to live, let alone speak any more after this.

I'd gone too far - that was certain, but did I have any regret towards my actions, that was entirely uncertain. I shouldn't regret anything when I wasn't in the wrong, or at least that's what the arrogant side of my head argued, and maybe now I can see Alex's point a little better.

Arrogance is useless and tiresomely unnecessary, yet somehow staple in our unsurprisingly monotone lives.

I'm pretty sure I hate that, and I'm pretty sure it's simply because arrogance alone has initiated this disagreement between Alex and I. To think that a mere display of control, arrogance, and that hero complex of mine would cost me my boyfriend and quite possibly my life too.

"That is a harsh way to put it." He rolled the word off the tip of his tongue with a simple smirk, knowing that he was the one in power here and of course, loving it within its entirety. Alex Gaskarth liked to play games, and he just loved it when the counters he used were people's lives and when the dice involved always fell in his favour.

"You've been disobedient, you know, rebelling against explicit orders doesn't put anything in your favour, Jacky." He lowered his tone to a whisper, stepping closer to me once again. "I thought you would have figured that out by now, wouldn't you?"

And in that moment all the memories came back in the same second, leaving me on overdrive with the horror flooding to my head as I relieved every godforsaken moment I had tucked away in my head, banishing them all to the depths of nothingness, but now as they were brought forward, they didn't seem quite so distant any more, and in turn, far, far too real for my stomach not to initiate a complicated routine of seventy somersaults in succession, leaving me nothing but absolutely sickeningly anxious.

And I wanted to be fucking sick because I knew what was going to happen next - I knew what had happened twice before, and would now occur a third. And I knew that twice was definitely not accidental, so what did that make three times? Undeniably purposeful? Perhaps.

"You're not going to kill me." My voice came out in a pathetic stammer, harnessing a grin from Alex as he basked in my inadequacy, and of course the anxiety ridden hopelessness that was stupidly close to follow.

"What makes you so sure?" He countered me unexpectedly, causing my stomach to take a plunge deep into the depths of utter nothingness, and maybe that was better - feeling absolutely nothing at all, but that did give way to the sickening feeling that was slowly taking over my body in pursuit for my demise.

"That's what I want." I managed to push my words out, knowing that he was playing me right into his hand but following then poisoned bread crumb trail regardless, perhaps I was ignorant, perhaps I was plain stupid, or perhaps I had just given up, and perhaps that was for the best, seeing as I had no hope of getting anything but an increased punishment out of this at all. "You never let me have what I want." Yet, I continued.

"Greed is unnecessary." He met my gaze with a smirk, clearly proud of himself as to just how easily I'd played into that little trap of his. "All my efforts were in your assistance and that alone."

"That's bullshit and you know that!" I spat at him, engulfing myself within the very greed he strived to guide me away from, simply perhaps for spite itself, because maybe that was a beautiful thing when painted in the light of rebellion.

"You're fucking selfish - all, you want is within your own favour and in fact the very reason that I'm still breathing is that you were fucking stupid enough to get attached to me and now you want me around as you play thing, and you know what? I hate that. I hate you."

And even more so, I hated how my words didn't seem to affect him within the slightest.

I hated how he'd built himself up like this, and now he was barely human, barely Alex any more. He was just a killer, and he preferred it that way, but I really didn't.

"Hate is a strong word, Jacky." He whispered, pulling me up and pressing me against the wall, his eyes meeting mine with bare millimetres between the brown irises of a sickeningly similar shade.

"I know." I thought back with similar verbal force, having absolutely nothing to lose by now - I was already fucked beyond belief. "That's precisely as to why I chose it."

"You don't seem to understand that I'm your master, Jacky. I'm in control." He pushed my chin up, forcing me to meet his gaze as he sent me thousands upon thousands of what I would assume to be intimidating glances.

"You're neither of those things. We're both fucking human beings, Alex." I tried for what I assumed to be the final time by the irrational, hateful glare in his eyes as they caught the light.

He chuckled at that one, the whole idea seeming nothing short of utterly preposterous in his mind. "That's precisely where you're wrong."

"Yeah, you're not human at all - you're a fucking monster."

"Again a harsh way to put it, now come on, Jacky. I know you love me really." He cooed, his fingers traversing the contours of my cheekbones in a way that would be almost endearing if I didn't quite hate him so much. Hate is possibly the strongest emotion of all, love coming a close second, of course.

"Because you love to fucking exploit it, don't you?" I snapped, by now utterly tired of every last little bit of bullshit he threw in my direction in what was a painstakingly casual manner.

"Exploitation is only that if you let it be." He continued, his face laden with a perfect smirk.

"You want me to consent to my demise."

"If it makes you feel better then yes-" He pulled the words through his voice like the whole matter was a mere inconvenience to him.

"I don't consent though. I'm not consensual."

"Always the dramatic little whore weren't you?" He pushed a finger to my lips. "But with whores consent is unnecessary - it's your job, so close your mouth, Jacky. If I was you I'd save it for later... I'm not stopping until I'm satisfied, Jacky." I glanced towards the door, the door he'd forgotten to lock and the door I could have hopes of escaping from.

The idea made me sick to the stomach because now I was left with a Decision.

"Come on now, Jacky." He purred, curling his finger at me.

The decision to which the answer seemed obvious and perhaps would have even been easy if I wasn't so fucking in love with the psychopath in front of me.

And perhaps when it came to emotions, Alex was right.

-

Day Twenty Four. Jack - 5:23

Why.

The only word to run through my mind was that - why.

Why had things that days ago seemed to be going so well, turn so easily into a mess for the world obsess over? How had this even happened? How and more importantly why had I fallen right back to square one - to day one?

I'd fallen down back through this mess, but with no hopes of escape - only the knowledge that I'd have to go through it all over again, and honestly I didn't think I could handle that, and maybe Alex knew that too, but I had no choice now, because Alex's decision was final, and perhaps this time around I'd get that into this stupid little head of mine.

I'd tried far too hard to rebel; I'd always gone through with the 'knowledge' that Alex and I were equals, but the thing is, it was rather obvious that Alex called himself 'master' for a reason, and of course, only now it was coming to this stupid little head of mine, wasn't it?

The thing is though, I never did learn, did I?

Perhaps this time I'd be okay, and this time I'd just accept that Alex was in charge and that things would go as he said and under his rule, but I doubted I could keep my mouth shut long enough to let that happen, because that was the thing about me - I just had to have the last word; I couldn't accept that someone else, despite the honest and somewhat blatant truth, was right.

It always had to be me.

And then I discovered that really, I was the most arrogant one of them all; Alex was a saint to me, and he probably thought so too. Perhaps that was what was going on in that head of his and perhaps I had caused all this mess.

Alex believed strongly in humans and his perception of their idiocy and controllable nature, and when I'd came along and completely destroyed all he knew, maybe he broken down a little, and then maybe he decided that this state of arrogance was placid for humans and perhaps that made him up his game, leaving him in the state he was now and the blame entirely in my stained red hands.

It was all so clear now, and it was practically ridiculous that I hadn't seen it before, but then again, I guess it kind of fit then, because that's how my life was - ridiculous, and that's how I deserved things to be, so perhaps I did deserve what had happened, as of course sins warrant punishment - that's how this world works, even if it's only now I'm learning that.

I deserve it all, and as always Alex was always right.

He wouldn't lie to me - Alex knew best. He wouldn't guide my life in anything other than what he knew was right and best for me, because unlike the rest of the world, Alex cared about me. He just had a strange way of showing it, I guess.

Perhaps I should obey him now, and perhaps I should get some sleep.

Perhaps.

Or perhaps I shouldn't obey him, I shouldn't believe a single word that leaves his lips and I should escape while I have the opportunity, or even try when I don't, but I know by now that it's a long shot and even if by some miracle I do accomplish the impossible feat, it wouldn't last long at all.

I wouldn't know what to do, whom to go to, because by the day, it's becoming even further apparent that I really have no one else outside this house, and that honestly, even if it was entirely unintentional, Alex did me the biggest favour he could have ever done by bringing me here.

Even if it was kidnap, he still cared enough and even noticed me from the crowd. He cared about me, because I was still alive, and now, now I knew I should be thankful, and that I need to repay him for his sympathy and kindness, because it's there, it's always been there, Alex just has an odd way of showing it.

Love, however, I'm unsure about, but I suspect it's much the same, or at least I hope so, clinging onto the hope that it isn't greedy to hope the one you love returns your feelings, because now I want to listen to Alex, and I want to be righteous.

The man knows what's right and perhaps if I obey him and follow his conduct, he'll turn his attention towards me and there'll be love again, and even if things don't quite work out like that, then I think simply out of newfound gratitude, I'll be content with simply his forgiveness alone.

-

10:12

"Jacky..." I grew to consciousness slowly, awakening to the warm touch that spread through my veins as he placed his hand on my shoulder. It shouldn't have been like that, but of course, Alex had always been my ultimate vice, and there was of course nothing I could fall in love with than the one thing I shouldn't,

I let out a grunt to signify I was awake, before rolling onto my back and rubbing my eyes, getting as much sleep as I physically could before I did finally have to push open my eyelids and let reality take me through the day - something I was nothing short of dreading.

"Hey, you've got to wake up now." Alex murmured sitting down on the bed beside me and looking at me with strangely sympathetic eyes for having raped me last night; this of course being a fact I could never let myself forget, despite every glance he gave me and every time his eyes turned soft, and of course that stupidly fucking cute smile.

"Fuck off." And that was when I learned that my late night sympathies didn't translate into the morning light, and perhaps that was a good thing, because forgiving Alex for the third time could be quite possibly the worst move I could make, yet somehow I felt it coming on, even without my consent. Now wasn't that just beautifully ironic?

"Jacky." He let out a sigh, running his fingers through my hair in a manner that I didn't want to be quite as calming as it was, but Alex seemed to have some sort of magical powers when it came to calming me down, or mainly manipulating me, and it certainly was working very much in his favour, even if I was a little biased to say so.

"What?" I snapped out in return, sealing my eyelids back shut and wondering if I could just lay here forever and forget I even once existed entirely - I mean I had to die some day, and it was simply Alex's decision as to how soon that day came.

I wondered how the events of the past twenty four hours had affected that decision, and still I wasn't quite sure as to which way I would prefer him to sway, but I didn't settle on it for awfully long, as after all the decision was nothing but out of my control and the only thing it could accomplish was weighing me down: the metaphorical chains to these temporarily free wrists.

"Jacky, I'm sorry, I just want to talk to you." He whispered, shuffling up next to me on the bed, yet in the circumstance, his gesture was more threatening than it was comforting, but it was Alex so perhaps that had been the intent, or the subconscious one at the very least.

Even if Alex wanted to be kind for some godforsaken reason at that particular moment in time, it was always as if his mind was holding him back - not quite letting him. And I hated that, because what else could I? Now, he'd resorted me into this situation of not quite complacent, placid yet reluctant compliance, but that was okay, despite the fact that I hated it.

"What about?" I grumbled, sitting up entirely and slowly edging as far away from him as I could in what I could call the most discrete manner possible. "How I'm your little whore and you want to fuck me all night?" I met his eyes with the most hateful glare I could muster from these fucking tear stained eyes. "How you're going to slit my throat and push a bullet into my skull?"

"No," He let out a sigh before continuing, perhaps disappointed in himself; he was fucking Alex Gaskarth and he couldn't end the life of some stupidly arrogant boy. I'd be disappointed too- in fact, I am, but not in me... in myself.

"I want to talk about how I regret what I did last night and that I am really very sorry." He met my eyes for the last part, probably in some mediocre attempt to somehow validate his blatant lie. I never understand the whole looking someone in the eye thing. If someone's a vaguely decent liar and are comfortable with going through with lying to someone, I'm sure they can manage to push away their morals (if they have any that is) long enough to make eye contact for a brief few seconds.

"Sure you are." I rolled my eyes, pulling my gaze away from him before I somehow managed to get myself trapped in it or something like that, which I said in sarcasm, despite the fact it was painfully and even scarily possible.

"Jacky, please..." He placed his hand in mine, causing me to stop and considering look back at him, even if it was only momentarily, but I didn't - I couldn't. "I promise you, Jacky. Three times is too much- this will never happen again."

He'd said that twice before and with every time it had only grown to mean less and less. And I began to wonder if I should listen to a single word he ever says, and if one single word of meaning ever left those lying lips.

"Three times is too much." I agreed, inhaling slowly in a haphazardous attempt to fight back my tears. "Twice is too much, though. In fact, one fucking time is one time too many, Alex." I turned back to burn apart his gaze with my glare, finally giving him and letting the eye contact that screamed to be, be. "Do you not get that or something?"

"I said I'm sorry, Jacky. What else can I say?" He struggled to meet my gaze in what I guessed to be guilt. In fact, I hoped and prayed that it was guilt, but things didn't certainly seem to be that way; this was Alex, after all.

"Nothing." I let out a heavy sigh, almost as if I was releasing everything; letting go all at once, which really sounded like a terribly foolish idea, yet I did it regardless. "You can't say anything that will mean something now."

"Then how am I supposed to fix things-"

He still didn't get it; the whole concept was fucking alien to him by now and it was accomplishing nothing short of tearing my heart apart. But perhaps that was for the best - I really didn't need a heart these days; after all, the thing had only brought me ache, pain, and this sickening little thing called love.

"You can't!" I screamed out, unable to stop myself by now.

"Jacky-"

"Shut up with the fucking 'Jacky's, okay?" I had just completely lost it, and in my head I'd like to say that it was entirely his fault, despite the obvious truth.

But really with Alex and all he's done, I wasn't exactly to blame. Partially, of course, but most definitely, not exactly.

"I'm sorry." He breathed out after a painfully prolonged period of silence and I bit my lip, daring to meet his gaze. The tables seemed to have turned, as I was now unsure where to go from here, and more importantly how the hell I could ever accept this apology, and of course, whether I really should.

"Sorry isn't enough." I let out a sigh; sick of this situation and the mess that was our 'relationship' and even just this damn planet we live on, because right now I thought I had the right to be pissed off at everyone and everything. Arrogance had really taken a hold of me by now.

"I know..." His eyes drifted downwards and he began absent-mindedly twiddling his thumbs, leaving a wave of guilt that really should have never existed to wash over me, but it did, and this one was really entirely Alex's fault - I didn't have to convince myself on this one.

"Why do you keep doing this, Alex? I mean you say you're sorry afterwards and you make a really fucking convincing performance of it, but you never even seem to care when you're doing those things, and sometimes I don't think you understand just how complex emotions are at all." I let out a second sigh, accepting that I'd really pushed things over the line once again. "You can't fix things with a simple and overall meaningless apology."

"It's not meaningless, Jacky." He pulled his gaze up to meet mine, almost offended by my distrust in his apology, which I really had an awful lot of reason for, and that reason was really all down to him. "I wouldn't have apologised if I didn't mean it. You know I'm not that kind of guy."

"I know, Alex, but you've done this twice before and honestly I just don't know if I can afford to believe you a third time now- I mean, it was hard even trusting you on the second, like as if the first wasn't hard enough, but fuck- Alex, please just try to explain... why does this keep happening?" I needed an answer and I needed to keep digging even if the fact that there simply wasn't one was left in such plain sight.

"Because I need to be in control." He blurted out of nowhere, and into a silence that I was certain signified that I wouldn't receive an answer, and just this once it felt great to have been proved wrong by Alex.

Maybe I should never expect anything, then I'd avoid disappointment, but you can't just live like that; disappointment is a part of life, and it's a risk you have to take if you want to feel anything at all, and I do, because simple human emotions are the most powerful thing on this goddamn planet.

"You don't Alex- why, why do you need to be? I mean, what's going to happen if we're just equal, because Alex that's how normal people in normal relationships act." I met his gaze for the last part, my words tumbling from my lips before I could accurately judge as to how he might react to a statement like that.

Alex really didn't like the concept of 'normal' at all, and I could see why: he wasn't the type to have any hopes of fitting into a 'normal' society at all. Alex seemed to take pride in his difference and perhaps that was something I should be in envy of, but I guess Alex's kind of different was too different for me, even.

"Things go wrong and bad things will happen if I'm not in control..." He suddenly grew very quiet, pulling his limbs into his body and almost mimicking my body position of a few minutes prior. Irony again rearing its ugly head amongst our conversations.

"They won't, Alex, please trust me - they won't." I gave a squeeze to his hand - I didn't know why, it just felt right, and that was how I was living these days; it was impractical, irrational, and downright dangerous. It was also entirely Alex's fault, but that didn't mean I loved it any less. "I wouldn't lie to you."

"People have said that to me before."

"Did they lie?" I asked, wondering what I was uncovering here and almost more importantly as to whether I really wanted to know as to what had made Alex like this, because whatever or whoever it was, I was well and truly terrified of them.

"Yes." It was definite and certain and he didn't even have to think as he pushed the word between his lips, and that slowly began to break my heart into little rose tinted glass shards, laying on the floor in a pattern that didn't quite fit into a full heart anymore.

"I'm not other people, though Alex." I let out a sigh, not quite wanting to continue, but I knew by now I had very little choice. "I'm Jacky."

"You're special." He agreed after a while, almost as if he was trying to convince himself that I wasn't out to kill him or something, which really would have been rather ironic.

"I wouldn't say that-" I began to protest, almost out of a mixture of instinct and modesty, but I really wasn't sure as to why for the most part.

"You are." He was convincing me now, and this time, I openly let him; reluctance was out of the window these days. "You really are Jacky, and you just don't understand how you matter so much and that hurts me sometimes."

"What hurts me is when... it's hard to explain, but sometimes, Alex, it seems like there's two different people - there's this you - nice you, and then there's the Alex from last night who yelled at me and did what should have never been done even once, let alone three times." I admitted; despite the insanity that I guessed would come as a buy one get one free with my words.

"I think there's three." He pushed his words out almost as if he, himself, was afraid of them. "Three people - there's bad Alex, good Alex, and stupid Alex."

"Stupid Alex?" I raised my eyebrow at that one, wondering how someone with such arrogance could ever possibly admit to his own stupidity, but with Alex nothing is ever at all predictable.

"Yeah, that's me right now..." He let out a sigh and I wanted nothing more than to hug him until everything was better, but we weren't five anymore, and things had stopped working like that.

"What? Why?"

"Because stupid Alex has fallen in love with you, and there's no hope of that ever ending." My heart skipped a beat- several beats.

"I wouldn't call that stupid."

"What would you call it then?" He asked me with wide eyes.

"I'd say perfect. Perfect Alex."

-

Alex. Day Twenty Five - 4:46

I want to let him, but then again in the reality of it there could really be nothing worse.

I want to let him 'win', but I can't - I'm stubborn and he knows that too. He's cleverer than I thought, especially at first; I wasn't quite stupid enough to take someone on my own level of intelligence, and even with the array of shit I was taking then.

The worst thing was though that Jack wasn't just on the same level when it came to intelligence; he was always on the same level - he was me in another form and perhaps all I could have been if I hadn't gone down the wrong route in life, and it times like this that I drown myself in everything that went wrong.

And you've just got to love the bittersweet of it, because Jack is all I could have been and perhaps that why I both loathe and love him. I'm not sure as to whether that's for the better or for the worse; my mind's a mess right now - it always has been, and nothing, not even Jack can remedy that.

I'm lost within myself and perhaps that's the best place to be lost because nothing expect myself can hurt me here and that's comforting, but the comfort is nothing but naive and ignorant: because the thing I should be scared of the most is nothing other than myself.

I got myself here after all.

I'm the kind of person mothers are warning their little children about; I'm a monster, and Jack's lying to me now. I think maybe it isn't intentionally - I think maybe that I've blinded him too, but that's definitely my fault, because I've not just ruined myself - I've ruined him too.

There's no hope for sanity for either of us, and that's the only reason he's clinging onto me quite so tightly. On the other hand, I'm clinging on for dear life, because he's the only thing keeping me vaguely afloat - I need him more than either of us want to admit and that's sincerely my fault.

It just hurts that he can't let go; he didn't escape when I gave him the easy opportunity and that's entirely my fault - I've put him here - I've fucked this up and yet he stills looks up to me like I'm worth giving a damn about and I think that hurts more than any amount of bullets or hatred could.

He could pelt me with bullets until I bleed out and die and surely that still wouldn't hurt more than this does - the pure realisation of human emotion, and how that's just been lost for long.

I can barely remember what emotion, what feeling felt like anymore, and that's where this all went wrong; how I cut myself off from everything real and human and how I let the angels in.

I thought that was the best thing I'd ever done; making myself stronger, making myself harder, making myself impossible to beat, but that's not what life's about. That's not what anything's about. I'm just a childish coward to the extreme; all I've done is further isolated myself inside my own head and surely that's the worst place I could ever be.

All I've done is rendered myself incapable of ever being human again, and it took Jack to strike that out in me, to show me that there really was something else and all that I could have been right now, and I'd like to say that it wasn't my fault, but it really is.

It's always been my fault and there's really no way around that, except the tricking of my own mind and everyone around me, because what I've done to Jack is even more sickening than what I've done to the six others - Jack has to live with this fucked up head that my arrogance would say no psychologist could fix and he has to learn that I hold no answers by himself, because my childish behaviour has taught him to trust me like I'm the only one right.

I've ruined the prettiest of paintings, and it is my fault.

I don't want him to end up like me; cold, heartless, and alone, but it looks like he's going down that route and no one can stop him, because the only person he's listening to is me, and I'm the last person he should be.

Perhaps I should just hand the two of us in to the authorities, because his safety is worth so much more than a broken man's sanity.

I want someone good to save what good is still left untempered within his bones, and I, I need to be disposed of like garbage for the crime I have committed; the six murders do not account for the broken sanity of the world's most hopeful boy.

I think I'm so desperate to save because I just couldn't save myself, and he's the only thing I have left, and as little as I want to, and of course as little as he'll want to, I have to let him go, because that's the only way he can save himself, even if I end up alone.

Because right now in my newfound and somewhat sane mind that makes sense.

It's like my head's been plunged under into a freezing cold basin of sanity - it's refreshing but I think it's holy water too, because it's burning me right to my core. It is the right kind of burn though; it's antiseptic - it hurts but it's for the better.

The thing is though, I don't know when it will stop, when the cleansing will end, if I'll ever be free of my sins or whether they'll drag me down to hell with them, because angels were never real, they're just devils that stuck feathers to their wings.

Alex Gaskarth was never real, he was just a little boy who fucked up and was far too scared to admit it. He's Lexy who sits on the front porch steps in the cold waiting for his father to come home, even if only to catch him for only a minute, but the only thing he ever caught was good old fucking hypothermia.

-

Flashback - Alex - Age Seven

"You'll catch cold out there." Mother met my gaze, her eyes glassy and constantly tear stained, her nose reddened from crying, even though she'd always pass it off as a bug, but even at the age of seven, little Alex knew that knew that no one could constantly have a cold for seven years.

Mrs Gaskarth was a frail woman; not particularly skinny, but of an average build, however her body seemed to be slowly decaying and rotting away as if she were fifty instead of thirty. She had frown lines and her face was deep set with wrinkles like bark on old tree despite how many layers of powder she caked her face in. Her eyes were once a twinkling blue; noticeably more alive even in the black and white photos she kept locked away in her top drawer than they were now. Her eyes were a dull grey, all hints of blue having faded away by now. Her teeth, hidden inside thin and scabbed lips, were yellowed from excessive nicotine consumption and slightly stained with an oily discharge from her cheap and mostly colourless lip-gloss.

"How can you catch the cold?" I met her with a confused expression; my fluffy brows furrowed up at her as I ignored her warning and continued to button upon my jacket, convinced it'd protect me from the cold outside even with the several tears, which it wore as part of the material itself.

"It's an expression, darling." She let out a sigh, stepping across the threshold of the kitchen; her face momentarily illuminated with a sickeningly yellow light, originating from the bare light bulb on the ceiling. 

As her face was splashed across with yellow light, I could see past the surface; a scar, white and faded up amongst her wrinkles shining under the light. The thing is thought that it wasn't just a scar and even though mummy was clumsy, no one got quite that many scars, especially ones that big and almost geometrically applied to her contoured skin.

"Mummy, where did you get that scratch?" I pulled my arm upwards as much as the tight sleeves of a jacket two sizes too small would allow me to in the direction of her left cheek where the scar lay, now hidden into the dull grey of the low light.

"It's nothing, dear." She let out a sigh as she watched as I continued to button up my jacket a little more hesitantly than at first - I was thinking. "Do you not listen to me at all? I told you it's freezing outside."

"Where did you get it?" I looked up at her once more, insisting with a little more force than I had previously, but in my squeaky seven year old voice I very much doubted the effect was anything other than comedical.

"I don't know, honey." Her eyes drifted to the floor. "I must have fell over or something."

'Why won't you tell me?" I stomped me foot in frustration, jerking her head up with the maternal instinct that came with the threatening of a tantrum.

"Because, Alex, there's nothing to tell." She finished in a harsher tone, meeting my gaze for a brief moment before the eye contact disintegrated into nothingness. "It's past nine - you should be in bed." I seemed unfazed by her reminder of my bedtime, as any seven year old would. "There's school tomorrow. You were telling me about this presentation you had to do. If I were you, I'd get lots of sleep so I could ensure it'd be the best it could be." She forced her lips up into a small smile.

I shook my head. "I don't want to do the stupid presentation."

"Why not?" She stepped closer, leaning down in front of me so we were at the same height. "I thought you loved that kind of thing."

"Rian ditched my group for Zack's." I admitted, biting down my lip a little as I remembered the snide remark which my best friend had left me with as he ditched me for some kid who barely ever washed his hair and was rumoured to have a family of beetles living in his right ear. "I don't want to do it on my own."

"Do you want me to ring Rian's mummy and ask her about this?" She asked, pulling me into a hug. "Have you said anything nasty to Rian?"

"No." I shook my head firmly. "He said something nasty to me."

Her eyes widened. "I always thought he was such a nice boy. What did he say, Alex?"

"He called me a stupid big headed smarty pants with no friends." I couldn't meet her eyes as I repeated the words that had been so cruelly imprinted on my little mind.

"That's not true honey." She squeezed me tight enough so that I had difficulty breathing.

"It is though. I have no friends." 

"I'm going to talk to Rian's mummy." She pulled herself back up to full height.

"I don't want to be friends with Rian anymore." I admitted.

"Why not? You two have been friends since Pre School." I ignored her sympathies and shook my head in a horribly strong willed state of defiance.

"I just don't. He's mean." She let out a sigh, presumably trying not to smack her horribly stubborn seven year old son straight round the face.

"Look, Lexy just go to bed and I promise you that when you wake up in the morning this will all be sorted out." She held her pinkie finger out for me to shake, but it was an offer I very clearly and somewhat rudely declined, although I didn't reckon she'd be quite as upset as she was. "Alex!"

"When's daddy going to come home?"

"I don't know!" She snapped in response, growing angrier by the second. "If I knew I'd tell you so don't call me a damn liar!"

"Mummy-"

"You're waiting up for him aren't you?" She was screeching at me by now. "Let me save you the trouble - don't wait up for him - it's not worth it'; he's never going to come home."

I couldn't form any noise other than a sob, leaving my mother to look at what she'd done and turn briskly on her heels to walk back into the kitchen.

"Mummy-" I choked out, causing her to turn back momentarily.

"Alex." She mimicked, the light lapping over her face and illuminating the scar once more; I couldn't help but fixate upon it, and she couldn't help but notice. "You really want to know where that came from?" She barked at me.

I nodded, unsure if it was really what I wanted anymore, but by now I was far too scared of her to disagree.

"How about you ask that precious 'daddy' of yours."

-

Alex - 5:25

It very much looks like that by now sleep simply isn't going to come, and perhaps I'm far too content with that, because even if delving into the past I'd tried with everything I had to forget was painful, it was just something I had to do.

I felt for all the pain that I had caused, I deserve just a little for myself, and that pain wasn't exactly hard to access, especially in a mind so decayed and cobwebbed as mine.

There was the very simple fact, which I'd learned at such a young age, that daddy hit mummy and even though both physically and mentally damaging to me in everyway, it still wasn't fully to blame, because even the most fucked up of minds are in your control.

Daddy hit mummy, but I still never had to hit anyone. What I saw wasn't what I did; I wasn't like most children - I was excessively and even arrogantly smart from a young age. I learned from the things I saw - I learned from other's mistakes to avoid making my own, and honestly I thought I had a perfect run until now, now I've realised that everything that went right was ultimately a mistake from the start.

That fucking hurts.

It hurts like part of my conscious has been ripped straight from my body, like part of me is no longer than and like nothing's that real anymore.

Perhaps that's for the best: I could down some pills without a worry now, and then simply disappear into nothingness. I'd know exactly what and how much to take without causing too much of a mess and it would be entirely all too easy to not bother trying at all.

But that would of course just reinforce my cowardice, and that's the last thing I want right now. I just want this to end, and I want Jack to be okay, and perhaps the only way to do that is if I turn myself in.

If I just stride down to the police station, if I just push open the doors, and I'll ignore the receptionist about to start her shift telling me to get out because it's too early. I won't say anything, I'll point to my face pinned upon the wanted board and I'll count the seconds from when her head turns to look until the moment the guards are called in and I'm cuffed.

I won't struggle, but this is America, so they'll sedate me nevertheless. I wonder when I'll wake up; if it's in the holding cell, the transportation bus, in the prison, or whether I won't wake up at all. I wonder whether they'll just press the unforgiving barrel of a gun to my temples and let me slip away entirely, because this is America, after all.

I could just walk out now; I could let that happen with one simple decision - one final one, one right decision, or I could continue hiding within the safety of my cowardice.

I could leave right now. I'd leave Jack behind in goodwill of course, perhaps I'd explain. How I could put this into words I had no idea and it was simply careless to leave into the authorities to lie to him. He deserved an apology at the very least and I seriously doubted I stay alive long enough to give him one.

I always loved the smell of blood, and I always loved knives, I just never knew that I could get the same ecstatic release from myself as I could from other people.

I loved to make a mess, and this time making a mess in red was the best thing I could do and soon I had just enough for my head to throb and every aspect of my being to slowly drip from me. I took an aspirin, because I needed to walk to the station successfully, and then I wrote my apology.

You'd need more blood than one would expect for seven uppercase letters an apostrophe, but it was worth it, because Jack shouldn't wake up to an empty house, empty of answers, he should awake to 'I'M SORRY' written upon the wall in the blood of a man who'd spilled the blood of many.

It was perfect now, or as perfect as things were going to get and with the aspirin clouding my head, I suspected that they angels were choking too.

Now all that was left was to leave, and leave this all behind.

I'd wonder when Jack would wake up and how long it'd take for him to notice I was gone and then how many seconds from then would it take for him to notice the apology on the wall, and then what he'd say to Flyzik down the phone line and just how much Flyzik would freak out when he realised exactly what the fuck I'd done and then in turn just how destroyed Jack would be.

I would wonder about that, but it'd surely make me stay

So for the first time in my life, I said no with the right intentions.

-

Day Twenty Six. Jack - 1:12

Having woken up in an unknown place after knowing far too well that I'd been in some sort of state of unnatural sleep for over twenty four hours now, I of course just knew that nothing but sedatives were to blame. I lived with my boyfriend, a serial killer, after all.

Fuck, Alex fucking used sedatives like they were cough sweets.

My head hurt like hell and it took me a good few minutes to try and convince myself not to just drift back to sleep and push reality away in favour of dreamland, and the horrors it had on offer for my sadistic pleasure.

This was Alex's fault, fuck. He just didn't make any sense, and quite honestly neither did we, but sometimes the best things in life were destined to mean barely anything, if something at all.

But of course, it wasn't just as simple as waking up and letting myself scream at him, because Alex was clever; when he did something, he did it for a very good reason, and considering that this was Alex we were talking about, his reason really could not be anything remotely good.

He'd used some pretty fucking strong sedatives judging by the difficulty I had getting out of bed, and even when I thought I was securely (or as securely as I was going to get) stood on my two feet, I was stumbling and nearly toppling over with every step, leaving me to wonder just if Alex had been trying to kill me with what he'd dosed me with this time.

However I pushed this idea away, knowing that if Alex wanted me dead even the slightest little bit, I would be long gone by now. Alex just didn't mess around at all - if he wanted something to happen, there wasn't a single doubt that it was going to fucking happen, and most likely within the short term.

And in a weird way, that was reassuring, I guess. The fact that I wasn't dead highlighted one important thing and that was that he wanted me alive, and that was enough to satisfy my horribly narcissistic sense of self worth, something that Alex had been always been trying to warn me of, but of course I was young and naive - not wanting to listen.

The thing about Alex, was although he was driving the two of us into a state of shared insanity - a madness shared by two, he was going about it in such a beautifully enthralling manner that I hadn't time to even assess my sanity before I fell head over heels for him, and despite everything he throws at me, says to me, does to me, I still can't help my loving him, because he's Alex, my Alex, and he makes me feel wanted, he makes me feel special.

I think the fact that the company of a serial killer is the company you would most enjoy is clearly the flashing lights sign for insanity, but they say love is blind, and they're right because I can't see those flashing lights for anything at all.

And perhaps I don't mind that at all.

Now, that's just ignorance, but perhaps right now, in this state of lovestruck blindness, that's irrelevant too. Perhaps this is all just extended and overwhelmingly consuming foolishness, but I just can't seem to accept that, because despite this all, Alex always has and always will be someone special to me.

Sometimes I do wonder about my family at home, but my old life just seems so pathetic, so uneventful compared to the rollercoaster ride I'm on now. There was always just something so dull and unappealing about the nine to five I'd always been destined to live and die with... it was just pointless, you know?

And now Alex had brought me a whole new life of love, reckless fucking fucked up love, war, drugs, sex - wanted and unwanted, and death. And as sick as it sounded - this was the life I wanted. I wanted the danger and the excitement, I wanted the life on the murder scene and nothing could stop me anymore. Okay, perhaps the police, but by now the odds were that everyone reckoned I was dead, and although heartless, I didn't quite mind that.

It hurt a little to think that my mother may be sat at home sobbing because her youngest son's dead, or so she thinks, so she's been told. I want to let her know that I'm okay and that I've just moved on, but honestly she'd never let me even date another man, regardless as to whether or not he's killed six people. And honestly the six dead barely even matter to me anymore.

I think perhaps they would have missed me - my family, or perhaps I would hope they would have at least pretended to, but what it'd been nearly a month now, and that really said nothing more than the chances of the authorities ever finding us practically impossible, but I wasn't quite Alex and I mustn’t get too cocky now.

It was weird to think that weeks ago I hated Alex for this, but of course that was when I was naive and brainwashed into the meaningless pattern of society, but somehow Alex the serial killer had given me life.

Irony always seemed to rear its familiar head in the best yet most unexpected of places.

I tried to remember what hating Alex Gaskarth felt like, but by now I was far too in love with him to even imagine a possibility as absurd as that, and to even consider reliving it was completely out of the question.

After sitting on the edge of the bed and contemplating the 'thing' Alex and I had for entirely far too long, I decided to chance getting up and making my way to the door. I didn't quite want to find out as to just what Alex had done, and why I'd been sedated - my mind instantly flashed to images of Cassadee lying dead on our kitchen floor - but, I guessed that I would have to find out sooner or later, and honestly the longer I spent cowardly waiting in here, the longer Alex put both himself and the world at risk.

And honestly, everything had to end, even my own cowardice.

I just horribly scared as to what, I'd see, who I'd see as I entered the main room of our house.

-

Really, thinking of my thoughts as I left the room and now being faced with the brutal, cold, dripping reality, I should have been scared as to what I wouldn't see. What I didn't see, and what I was scared I'd never see again.

Alex.

Because the house was empty and I could tell - it simply felt different. It felt like a funeral planner's office and the message on the wall - cryptic and bloody complemented that perfectly; perfectly enough to make a sadist laugh.

I think perhaps Alex would have laughed, but he's sorry now, and his coat and shoes are gone. The 'medicine' cabinet is open and honestly I'm left to assume nothing but the worst. And it is the worst that I do assume.

I want to cry.

I want to fucking cry.

But I can't fucking cry now, I just want to be as devoid of emotion as Alex. He was right - things are easier that way, and I've taken it too far, I've made him fall in love and completely ruined it for him. I'm the mistake here - I should be eliminated, I should have left this flat with desperately disastrous intentions, and not him. Not him at all.

It's all my fault and yet he's the one to apologise - the one to say sorry to the one who fucked it all up in the first place. The victim and the sinner turn the tables around on themselves again, because really they're one and the same - the perspective is simply inflated.

That's his blood up there on the wall - that's clearer than day, and I just hate that he sedated me for this, because he knew, he knew that he could lock me away forever but my acknowledgement of the fate he's chosen would have stopped him in an instant and that hurts, that fucking hurts.

I want to rip my heart right from my chest.

I do assume it'd cause even more of a mess, and the marble flooring doesn't need the blood of two spilled together. I feel sorry for the marble rather than myself, because I think today I can't care about myself at all. I need to sort this fucked up situation out and I just can't do that without Alex, but somehow that simply doesn't seem to matter.

I'm sorry.

The words just won't leave my head; the three syllables echoing around my empty and deserted head. I can't help but want an explanation, I can't help but want more than those fucking two little meaningless words of absolutely fucking no use to me whatsoever.

I wanted a longer note, I wanted an explanation, I didn’t want this to happen at all, but I got none of those things, and of course that was to be nothing other than expected - Alex doesn't fucking care. He plays by rules devoid of emotion and ignorant of others, I would say that his rules work perfectly, but in reflection, I look at where we are now and I can't help but disagree.

Perhaps the sedative was simply too strong and I'm hallucinating right now, perhaps Alex is stood right in front of me, freaking the fuck out as to why I can't see him. That would hurt a lot, for both of us. I wonder how it would be if I could never see him again, and how that would smash us both apart. Perhaps I should just pretend he's there and try and fix this out on a whim, but counteracting insanity with further insanity never quite works.

I blame for sedative for this mess, because I definitely can't blame Alex, and my ego is preventing me from even pointing the blame at all near myself.

I would just check the cabinet to see what he's given me, but it's empty. He's emptied it all out in its entirety, and for what purpose I'd rather not think about. In fact, I don't have to think about, because it's simple, because I know, and because I don't want to know at all. I wish I could just forget all of this, but forgetting Alex is the last thing I'd ever want to do.

This was utterly unexpected, but when I really think about it, could a situation like ours have any other outcome than a painstakingly tragic ending?

That doesn't settle the thudding in my chest as my heart tries to escape this glass prison of emotion - all the wrong emotions, all at once, and all too much of them. I don't blame my heart for trying to get out, I just wish I could too, but perhaps prison breaks aren't all that affective when you're trying to escape yourself.

I wonder where he is now; I wondered where he's ended up, what's happened to him. I want to know if he was successful in his quest, and if so, what happened from there. Is he locked away somewhere; nothing of the Alex I'd fallen in love with anymore - just the shell? I really don't want to know, but fuck I need to.

I need to know, I need to know what to do and where to go from here, because it's never been clearer that Alex is my rock - the thing I'm clinging onto for dear life, the one who calls the shots and always gets it right, and as much as I'd hate to admit it, without him I'm clueless, I'm nothing, I'm just Jack, and I'm all alone.

I'm not even Jacky anymore.

I don't think anyone's going to call me that name ever again, and I think perhaps I would like it to stay that way. No one could replace Alex - no one should even bother trying. I'm going bitter now, as my heart turns blackened and each inhale is harder than the last, because I can't do this, I can't carry on without him.

Love is a fucked up thing, man. There's no denying that.

-

7:16

I think that I've spent entirely too long now, moping and crying and generally curled up on the kitchen floor, clueless and alone.

Because fuck, I am fucking useless without him. I know that by now, and hurts more to know that he knew that too, because Alex was cleverer than anyone could ever estimate and he would just know how his actions would affect everything and everyone, and perhaps that's exactly why he was just so good at not getting caught. I honestly doubted that he ever would be, but that was all going to change now.

I think at first to call Flyzik, but I remember my state of absolute grief and just how apathic the guy will undoubtedly be towards this utter mess. The thing about Flyzik is that he's selfish. He tries to hide it at least, but it's horribly obvious that beneath it all, he doesn't give a fuck about anyone except himself.

I think perhaps it must be a lot easier living like that, without worries and cares for anyone else, but I know it'd be an awful lot lonelier too. Perhaps I could accept my own bitter loneliness for the peaceful absence of heartbreak and even people in general.

I end up calling Cassadee. It takes her four and a half rings to answer, and at once her happy, bubbly greeting is enough to reduce me to an obvious, spluttering, pathetic, fit of tears. I wonder why I counted the dial tones. I think perhaps I was simply petrified she wouldn't pick up, because honestly I couldn't be left alone at all.

"Jack, are you okay?" Her tone was obviously genuine, cutting the harsh reality down the phone line and into my dizzy head.

"No." I answered truthfully, attempting to compose myself, my eyes fixating upon the two words painted up on the wall, leaving me to realise just how impossible that proved to be. I was just about as far away from okay as I ever had been.

I still haven't had the heart to clean it off and quite honestly I don't think I ever will. I want those two words with me forever, because even if they aren't enough, they are most certainly better than nothing.

"What's happened? Oh my god, Jack." The fact that she genuinely seems to care, fucks with my head an awful lot, especially in this life of love and treachery. No one's at all trustworthy anymore, not even Alex, it seems. And that seems disrespectful to say, but I don't care - it was 'disrespectful' to break my heart in two, was it not?

But Cassadee's always there. Cassadee's just about my favourite person on this planet, besides Alex of course, but Alex isn't here anymore.

"Alex, he's gone." I finally managed to choke a response - a mediocre one, but a response at that.

"What do you mean? Gone?" She echoed, her words a little shaky and that really wasn't all that comforting, because right now I just needed a shoulder to support me, to cry on. I needed someone to tell me what to do and where to go from here.

"There's a message on the wall. It says 'I'm sorry'. It's written... Cassadee... it's written in his own fucking blood." She let out an audible gasp, and I could barely even breathe anymore, but perhaps that too was for the best. "The 'medicine' cabinet is empty, and he sedated me - I've only just woken up a few hours ago, and this is what I'm left with... I... fuck... I can't, I just... what the fuck do I do, Cassadee? Fuck."

"Are you sure he isn't coming back?" She inquired, almost timidly, and I didn't blame her - I was in nothing short of an absolute state and to say that my emotions were unpredictable was an absolutely gold painted, shining, understatement.

"It's Alex. He does things properly, and it's clear as to what he's done here. He's gone and fucking killed himself, Cassadee."

"God." She let out a gasp. "Jesus Christ, Jack. Have you called 911?"

"Why would I call 911? What would I even say? Oh yes, here I am Jack Barakat missing person here to report the suicide of my kidnapper and assumed killer, please look after his body and let me attend his funeral? They'd think I'm as fucked up as him, Cassadee. I don't want to be locked up... they're going to lock me up!"

"Calm down, Jack." She let out a sigh, probably having given up on me by now. I think maybe I shouldn't even blame her, but I'm still fighting for anything to keep me away from this isolated insanity. "They're probably going to send you back home, and you'll just never see Alex... Alex's body again."

"I don't want to fucking go home, what would my family even say? They'll think I'm insane for sure, no one fucking understands this at all, but I was in love with him and fuck I still am, Cassadee. How the fuck am I supposed to deal with this?" I had barely even realised that I was nothing short of screaming at her down the phone line by now.

"If it helps you can stay at mine for a while. I doubt that you can stay permanently, but you're a friend and this is some shit, okay?" 

"Thank you Cassadee, oh my god. I just can't... I can't leave this can I though? The last memories of us..." God, she was a fucking lifesaver... irony aside, but thank god I'd ever met her, because- it was down to Alex, everything was down to fucking Alex fuck.

"You can't stay in your dead boyfriend's apartment forever, Jack. Even you know that."

"Mmm..." I let out a sigh, my words even dulled out by the lack of Alex's presence.

"I'll come by to pick you up as soon as I can."

"Thank you, Cassadee."

"For what?" She giggled a little.

"For understanding, even just a little. It makes my head spin just a little less."

-

Day Twenty Seven - Jack. 4:48

"Jack, why are you still awake?" The dining room light flickered on as Cassadee's tired figure appeared in the doorway, her face complete with a mildly concerned look as she pulled her gaze over my body curled up in a chair and shaking just a little more than wouldn't be noticeable.

"I can't sleep." I let out in response, drawing in a huge breath of air, wondering if my lungs would collapse from an over intake of oxygen - I could always try. I wondered what it would have been like if it was I, and not Alex who'd died. After all, that was how it was originally meant to be, and who knows, perhaps it was meant to be that way for a reason.

"You have to at least try." She let out a sigh; it was clear she didn't want to be dealing with me like this but of course Cassadee was far too nice of a person to just leave me. "There's no way you're going to fall asleep there." She chose to point out the absolute obvious.

"I don't want to sleep, Cassadee." I met her gaze, taking in the confused expression I received in return. "I can't." I emphasised, wondering if she had it within her to just leave me the fuck alone, but since this was Cassadee, I could just about entirely cross out that possibility.

"Why not?" She furrowed her brow, sitting down in the chair opposite me and holding my gaze in a way that made me want to throw up everywhere.

This was fucking killing me. But just not well enough.

"Is it the house? Are you not used to it or..? I know I'm not exactly asking you to sleep in the most comfortable place either but Jack you have to try. You can't stay awake forever - you'll go mad." She chose the wrong statement to accompany with an air of light-heartedness, because really this was the one that hit the hardest of them all.

"I think I'm already mad." I threw my gaze upwards, fascinating myself with the emptiness of her ceiling and generally drawing myself away from her reaction entirely. "It's not that bad. I'm coping... I think." I think. Yeah, that was just borderline downright lying but the question of my moralities was the least of my problems right now.

"Jack, the only thing that's mad is you saying that." Her response came forcefully this time, completely and utterly determined in the fact that she'd walk away from this argument victoriously.

"That fits though, doesn't it?" I met her gaze, no longer concerned with the reaction I was bound to receive, and after all, this was all just inevitable when it came down to it. "The ramblings of a madman leave his lips."

"Not always." She insisted, perhaps just to be increasingly difficult, who knows.

"Mmm..." I mumbled in a disbelieving response, not at all convince by the standard of argument she was putting up.

"You're not Alex, you do know that right, Jack?" She leaned forward a little, suddenly growing far too concerned for my sanity's liking at all. She shouldn't care - perhaps then it'd be easier.

"Sometimes I think I'd like to be." I admitted, wondering how much easier it would be to be just so clever and free from emotion. Alex had carefully engineered himself into the brain of what to me seemed to almost be a superhuman.

"Why?" She exclaimed, seemingly unknown to my motives as I had expected.

"Because I don't want to feel a thing, not anymore." I let out a sigh, wishing I could just tear and rip the emption away, but that just wasn't how it worked and I hated that.

"Jack, there's nothing you could have done, his death, it's not your fault-" She began to proclaim, but I couldn't let her continue, because with every word that left her lips came the heightened risk that I may begin to believe her.

"There's everything I could have done, though." I hit her with the truth, wondering just how she'd react to that. "I saw this coming. I just ignored it." And I knew that all too fucking well.

"I don't blame you. No one wants to see thoughts of suicide in someone they love, and would even chose blatant ignorance over the acceptance of that." Now, she was agreeing with me, yet trying to make me feel better about the crime I’d committed, which perhaps made even less sense when I thought about it.

"He tried to before though, and even after that I didn't do all that much - I didn't do enough, Cassadee. I never did enough and now that's been proven. I'm not good enough for anyone at all." I pushed my head into my hands, trying not to cry and hoping she wouldn't notice, but she was Cassadee and of course she did.

"You've done so much, Jack." She reached out and pulled my hands away, leaving my red and shaking face exposed to her. "You've done so much more than you should have. I mean, he's Alex; you really shouldn't have gotten involved with him. You should have left while you had the chance, but that's-"

"I didn't want to leave." I admitted, practically screaming the truth at her in the off chance she might just listen. "He left, not me, in the end. Isn't that ironic, huh? The kidnapper escapes the victim. Fuck."

"It's not your fault." She persisted in her lost cause, and I really wished for her sake that it wasn't as such, but for my sake, the one favoured by me, it had to be that way, so I left myself content within my selfishness.

"Well, it really does feel like it." I snapped back in return, wishing her argument would just end and she'd admit the defeat she'd get by the end.

"Jack, it's five in the morning. You'll feel better after you've slept." She promised me yet another promise I couldn't quite believe, especially not after what had she'd said regarding Alex. Everything that left her lips from now on was just something I couldn't count on.

"I can't, remember." I glanced around the clock, and god she was right - it was nearly morning, and Alex still wasn't here, and in fact never would be. I can't live with this. I can't fucking live with myself at all. Not anymore.

"I have sleeping pills if that'll help..." Pills of any sort were the last thing that'd help right now, because pills only screamed one word, one name - Alex.

"The last thing I need are fucking pills right now." I snapped in response, glaring at her, and realising that perhaps my sudden outburst of anger wasn't perhaps the best of ideas I quickly stumbled to an apology. "Fuck... sorry. I-I..."

"I understand." She nodded, smiling at me the best she could in the situation, which really wasn't all that impressive, but could I really blame her? "It's okay, Jack, it is."

"Thank you." I accepted that at the very least, just to keep her happy I told myself.

"Just at least lie in bed, you can't sleep if you're not even trying." And she persisted in her quest for me to forget all about my sins for a few hours. I just couldn't do that - Alex wouldn't be happy.

"Like I couldn't save Alex, because I wasn't even trying." I mimicked, hitting her with the truth and wishing she'd just accept the evidence before her very eyes, but Cassadee was a different type of stubborn entirely.

"Jack, I know you were, you really were. Because if you didn't try, why would you care so much right now?" Fuck, that one was good, but I had an answer that was better.

"Guilt." I shrugged it off like it was nothing and I’d really just come up with this off the top of my head.

"But if you didn't care enough to try, why would you feel guilty in the first place?" And there she went again, our argument taken place by arrogant questions of morality.

"Death changes people. Death fucks us up because we don't understand it at all, and we've evolved so that the possibility of acceptance of the unknown is just out ruled.." I let out a sigh. "It drives you insane. Seven would just have been too many for Alex, I think."

"I think one was too many for him, Jack." She admitted, biting down on her lip awkwardly.

"So was that when he lost it?" My eyes widened, suddenly far too intrigued in the well-disguised lies that she concocted.

"I don't know for sure of course, but I would guess so." She practically went and confirmed it.

"What do you think he would have been like before he killed them?" I asked, sighing as I pulled down in the acceptance of the fact that there was no real Alex at all, just Alex the serial killer, who loved to manipulate people to the extreme. Fuck, perhaps this was all a trick and that was just what he was doing right now. God, how I would I even cope with that shit?

"I think then that the two of you would have had a really good chance together." She smiled at me as if what she'd just told me was something I could smile at too.

"I think so too." I let out sigh, drowning in just what could have been. And instantly hating myself for even letting my head think about that, because Alex was fucking dead and right now I just didn't care, did I?

"There's just so much I'll never know. I'll never know how it started or what happened, or fuck..." I buried my head in my hands once again; the voices still screaming at me from the back of my head and pushing me down the descent into insanity.

"I would guess the police would have records." She suggested, almost as if she was absolutely stupid, but of course, she wasn't, she was Cassadee.

"He's too clever for the police - they don't know about him at all." I explained, a little too smug for morality's liking. I didn't like morality.

"They'll have found the bodies." She continued, still stubborn in her wrong beliefs.

"It's Alex, I doubt it." I sighed, wondering when and if ever this would end.

"We can try." She continued, yet I still wasn't the slightest bit keen about anything regarding the police.

"It doesn't matter, I don't want to see the police at all. They'll just fuck things up again. I'll probably be stuck in a mental home or something... I don't know." I let out a groan; beginning to visualise my fate already and fuck it didn't look good.

"The thing is, Jack, that to them you're still a missing person - kidnapped, and you're in my house." Cassadee let out a sigh. "That doesn’t look good, does it?"

"I'm here willingly." I confirmed, as if she hadn't gathered that by now and was somehow under the illusion that she kidnapped me.

"The police won't necessarily see it that way." She reminded me of what was unfortunately the truth. "And I'm nowhere near as good as hiding fucking people as Alex."

"So is that your nice way of telling me to fuck off?" I went for the most obvious, if not a little blunt answer.

"No, Jack, really it isn't." She exclaimed, getting herself into a state that was really rather frantic. "You need someone right now and I can see that. I'm not letting you be alone, okay?"

"What do we do then?"

"You can call the police and tell them that you're okay and missing of your own accord." She suggested. It was a suggestion, but a stupid one, and therefore one I was going to ignore. "After all, they're not aware that Alex was involved." Fuck.

"Please don't say that." I choked out, heaving the tears and emotion back inside.

"What?"

"Was." Alex is, not Alex was. Alex. Fuck, Alex.

"Jack, he's... he's gone and I know it's hard but you've got to accept that." She explained almost as if she was explaining death to a young child, and right now I was just waiting for the 'he's gone to sleep' bit - surely that'd be amusing.

"I don't want to." I protested in a childish manner, because if she was going to talk to me like a child then that was exactly how I was going to act.

"I know. I wouldn't want to either, but we've got to do things in life that we don't want to." Again here came the parental response. Was I really all that hopeless?

I sighed, biting down on my lip hard enough for it to begin to bleed a little, and fuck that felt so good. "I hate this. I wish things were different."

"Me too, Jack. Me too."

-

13:34

"My head hurts." I complained aloud, clutching my forehead as I stumbled into the kitchen, where Cassadee stood preparing what I assumed by the time of afternoon to be lunch.

"At least you got some sleep." She sighed.

"Very little." I corrected her as I fell back into a dining chair.

"It's better than nothing, Jack. Think about the positives here."

"There are no fucking positives though." I rolled my eyes at her. "My fucking boyfriend's killed himself and you expect me to be positive here." I groaned.

"Jack-" She began.

"Whatever..." I let out a sigh, before turning back to her. "Can I make a call?"

"Yeah of course, dude I'm not your mum or something..." She exclaimed. "Oh, you don't have your own phone do you, god... fuck." She handed me the landline anyway. "Who are you calling, can I ask? I know I said I wasn't your mum, but yeah."

"This uhh... Matt dude, he's a kind of a 'friend' of Alex's, or well as close to a friend as someone like Alex is going to get." I began tapping his number into the handset, praying that if he picked up at all he wouldn't be too pissed entirely.

"I think that was you, Jack." She admitted before turning back to the meal she was cooking.

"Please just stop fucking saying was." I begged her.

"Jack, I know none of us like it, but he is dead." She let out a sigh, attempting to gauge my reaction as she began to wonder if she'd gone too far."

"I fucking wish it was me instead of him-"

"Jack!" she exclaimed. "No, you don't. Seriously don't you ever fucking say that, promise me you'll never say that again. Promise me, Jack."

And luckily for me it was at that moment that Flyzik picked up at the phone.

"It's Jack." I said into the phone, glancing at Cassadee briefly before I made my way into the living room to take the call somewhat more privately.

"Jack?" Oh fuck, he didn't even remember me, great. Well this guy was a dealer, so he probably knew a lot of Jacks, or at least that made me feel better so I went with that option.

"Alex's boyfriend." I confirmed.

"Oh, you. Hey kid, what do you want? I can do you some crack quite cheap right now you know-"

"Matt, I don't want drugs I just want to talk to you." I insisted.

"Well aren't you just the spoil sport." Why did Alex have to befriend people like him, fuck.

"It's important." I continued.

"Yeah, okay, kid. I'm sure you wouldn't call me if it wasn't." That really was true. Matt Flyzik was not my idea of ideal conversation.

"It's about Alex."

"Gone on, I'm listening." Fuck, I couldn't even pause for a minute without him butting in.

"There's no easy way to put this... he's dead."

"What?" He practically screamed down the phone line. "Are you fucking with me? You better not be fucking with me... fuck. You're not are you?"

"I'm not, Matt." I let out a sigh. "He killed himself."

"Oh Jesus."

"I know. He barely even left a note - just two words. He wrote them on the wall in his own fucking blood."

"Yeah, Alex is- was always a sadistic fuck." He let out a sigh. "What did he say, kid?"

"I'm sorry."

"Oh." His tone changed completely at that; confusion taking the place of grief.

"What?" I quivered.

"That's out of character." Matt persisted. "Very out of character. Did he ever go on about how he finds guilt useless and how he never regrets or feels sorry about anything?"

"Yeah." I admitted with a sigh. "I remember that."

"This is very fucking suspicious, you know." He observed.

"So are you telling me that he's not dead or something?"

"Dude, I'd love to but honestly I'm just as clueless as you. I would tell you go to the police, but I doubt that whatever this is that it's something they can handle."

"Alex said the police weren't aware of him though."

"Yeah kid, I know, but that's not what I'm talking about, because if Alex isn't dead, whatever's made him to do this is really something to be feared within its entirety."

"So what do we do?" I asked.

"Fuck kid, I don't know. How are you even coping? Don't tell me you're still in that fucked up house of his."

"I'm not. I'm staying with a friend." I explained as briefly as I could.

"A friend? And how much does this friend know?"

"Everything."

"Well aren't you fucking intelligent!" He spat at me out of nowhere.

"No, it's okay. She- she... Alex tried to kill her, but she escaped. She's aware of us and what happened."

"No one fucking escapes - she's lying."

"I helped her escape." I told him the truth.

"Well I can guess that Alex didn't exactly appreciate that."

"That's one way to put it." I let out a sigh.

"Give me the address and I'll come over and we can talk things over and sort out what the hell we're going to do, whether Alex is alive or not."

"Okay." I let out a sigh, reciting him the address reading it from where she'd conveniently written it on what appeared to be a business card.

"Yeah, I've got to see a client quickly, so I'll be over in an hour or so. Try not to do anything too stupid by then."

"Yeah, I'll try." I let out sigh. "Bye Flyzik."

"See you kid, stay sane."

I wish I could.

-

Day Twenty Eight. Jack - 6:48

I think perhaps that waiting for Flyzik to finally get here was one of the most anxiety-ridden experiences of my whole fucking life.

Now Alex’s... gone. These thoughts, these fucking thoughts keep creeping into my head and they keep whispering the most horrible things into my ears. These things though are of course in the afterthought absurd, but when they're screamed into your ear by what seems like hundreds- thousands- millions of little voices, they seem all so fucking real.

Today the voices make me nervously unsure that Flyzik will ever turn up. Perhaps he doesn't care at all, and perhaps he's abandoned us entirely; after all, for someone like him that possibility isn't at all entirely unlikely. That is of course affected by our current situation, though, because I know that even though Flyzik cares very little for me, I know he cares about Alex.

Alex is what matters here. 

I need to put aside all these silly little thoughts and get over myself, because I'm not potentially dead, I'm just fucked up, and I need to fucking get over myself.

I tell myself this, but the voices are arrogant and ridden with emotion; they don't listen.

Alex was right. 

I should have known: Alex is always right.

Emotions are worth nothing but another anchor built solely to weigh you down. It seems easy enough to recognise that now and of course the hardest part is untying yourself from the anchors when they're what you've clung to and tied yourself up in for all so fucking long.

But I hold onto the fact that without these anchors I'll be free and then perhaps I could get away from this completely and I could find Alex. He's the only thing that seems to matter at all right now; my sleep has been terrible, and I've made very little effort to care, despite Cassadee's endless protests.

I don't think I've eaten much either. I don't feel like it's going to help, I just don't feel hungry, I feel empty, I just don't feel... not without Alex.

Fuck, I just need him here - he'd know exactly what to do, and even if I didn't agree with what he had to say, he knew that it'd always be right and it'd be my fault for not listening to him. Fuck, I deserved this didn't I? I never really listened to him, I never really gave him all he asked for - I was rebellious and a fucking bitch to him, and therefore perhaps I deserved this fate, this loneliness after all.

Because at the start, my only desire was this - 'freedom' as I would have called it, but in reality it's anything but that. Irony does always choose the best moments to strike.

Even if this is freedom, I know for certain that I hate it more than I could ever express, because this isn't freedom, this is loneliness, this emptiness, this is what it feels to be lost, and god I need him more than I could ever know.

Again, Alex was right again, because Alex always knew that the two of us were alike, meant for each other perhaps. He even told me, in the early days, and of course I hadn't listened; I'd ignored the truth, I thought him stupid and even a liar, but of course, he was Alex and he was right all along.

Maybe Alex had just been trying to get me to accept this when we had sex, maybe because he just knew what was best for me... Perhaps I had been ignorant to that also, and perhaps I'm still ignorant now.

Fuck, I need him.

He'd know what to do, how to cure me of this ignorance I'd cursed myself with. I think perhaps that Alex may also be some sort of god because fucking hell, he's free from this all, he's perfect... fuck, when he says he hears the angels and god speaking to him, perhaps he does and perhaps he's right, because how else, could he possibly be constructed so perfectly and efficiently if he weren't made entirely for God's personal use.

Now, now it all makes so much sense.

I hate being human.

I hate being ignorant to this all.

I need Alex back, and I need him back soon.

-

10:12

The doorbell chimed unexpectedly loudly throughout the house, almost as if someone had firmly pressed their finger down onto it with as much force as they could possibly muster, which with Flyzik's apparent lack of a gentle nature really wasn't at all that unlikely.

I scrambled to my feet, Cassadee shooting me a mildly confused look as I darted for the door, grabbing the key from the side and pulling the thing wide open in the space of a mere few seconds. I probably seemed pathetically desperate to the both of them, but I was, and I was just left to hope they had the compassion to understand.

Cassadee though didn't understand; I needed Flyzik right now, because quite honestly he was my best hope for finding Alex ever again. She really didn't see the situation that way though, and it really looked like there wasn't that much I could do to remedy that.

"Kid!" He exclaimed, referring to me as he preferred, his arms swinging around me in an awkward hug that only took place in the absence of Alex. With him here, none of this would even be considered plausible, but of course, loss changes people - it's something we can't, and just quite frankly don't want to understand.

"You doing okay?" He asked as we pulled away, eyeing me up and down in a weirdly concerned manner, because quite honestly I doubted that Flyzik's emotional capacities stretched quite as far as compassion.

I nodded in response, turning back to look as Cassadee wandered towards the door, peering at Flyzik from across the hallway. Her eyebrows were fixed up in a heighted position as she examined him in a manner awfully similar to the way he had just examined me.

"Cass, this is uhh... Matt Flyzik." I explained, turning back to Flyzik who appeared to be doing his best to look the least intimidating as possible; it wasn't really working all that well, seeing as he just gave off this don't fuck with me vibe, but he was trying at the very least - I had to give him credit for that. "He's, you know, the friend of Alex."

Her head moved slowly in a nodding manner in order to simply acknowledge my explanation, "yeah, hey." She smiled up at him and I just wondered how the hell she could maintain that standard of happiness in these circumstances when I couldn't even mange to fake it without him. "I'm Cassadee." She added, her smile widening to an extent that even made me a little uncomfortable.

Flyzik raised one eyebrow a little, stepping forward and peering around a little at the house. "Nice place, you've got." He commented upon the house casually, his hands lying low in his pockets.

"Uhh... yeah, yeah it is." She nodded, blushing a little, for god knows what reason. Girls are fucking weird, man. "You can hang your jacket up." She gestured to the coat pegs where my jacket and a few of hers now resided.

"I’m good, thanks." He pulled the dark hoodie closer around his body, but slid his vans off next to the other shoes and stepped forward, albeit a little awkwardly. I imagined however that he wasn't exactly at all accustomed to domesticities such as this.

"Alright then, kid, we've got a problem to solve, haven't we?" He pulled his expression up into a devilish grin.

His enthusiasm certainly both confused and worried me, but he had this glint in his eyes that could be mistaken for hope, this glint in his eyes that told me, that somehow, by some godly miracle, this guy seemed to have some idea what to do.

And honestly, despite my instincts, I was in no positions to deny that.

-

10:51

Flyzik chose himself an armchair that was positioned opposite the sofa, with the coffee table between us, he leaned forward as he sat in it, pulling out a notepad and a severely chewed down biro and throwing them down onto the coffee table in front of him without the need for an obvious explanation.

Cassadee and I took the initiative to sit on the sofa across from him. She still continued her distrust in him, displaying it more obviously than I thought she would have intended, via the means of offward glances and not quite so discreet body gestures.

I doubted Flyzik minded all that much though, because if he had any real problem regarding her, he would have voiced it by now. Well, I say 'voiced'...

She sent me a wary glance before gesturing with her eyes towards Flyzik and I gathered that she didn't entirely trust him at all, let alone in her house, and let alone with the fate of Alex, and quite honestly I didn't blame her.

Nonetheless I gave her a reassuring smile that signified that perhaps she'd just have to trust me on this one.

She appeared awfully reluctant, but she nodded in agreement regardless and I wondered why the hell anyone ever listened to me - I was clouded with emotion, useless, and irrational.

Alex was who we needed though; so I guess I'd just have to try to lock my emotions up inside of me long enough to get us through this and Alex alive. The whole matter was still spinning around in my head at a crazy wild speed, leaving me to cope with it in simply the best manner I possibly could, which evidently hadn't been awfully well.

"So, the simple fact is that Alex is either dead or he isn't." Matt stated aloud, glancing between the two of us and interrupting our silent conversation; constructed of only gestures and vague eye movements.

"What do you mean he's not dead?" Cassadee widened her eyes, immediately stuck in utter disbelief of his statement, of course, but that didn't mean she wasn't going to fucking interrogate him for it. "Jack saw the blood on the wall, and the pills gone. Jack saw this all first hand, come on. I don't mean to upset either of you here, but we have to look at this realistically."

"Don't worry," he paused, meeting her gaze, the corners of his mouth twisting up into a deviously sly smile, "I am." She sent him a confused glance in response, causing the corners of his mouth to curl up even further.

"Cassadee, was it? Yeah, the reality is that I know Alex a lot better than you do. Of course he's Alex, no one really has a clue as to what the hell could possibly go on up in that head of his, but I honestly think I have a much better idea than you do." And that was just about as tolerable as Matt Flyzik got, and this was most definitely a good day.

"Okay, okay." She let out a sigh, leaning back against the sofa, and possibly just fiving up a little inside, not that she'd ever even dream of admitting that aloud. "Just don't fucking upset Jack anymore." She hit Flyzik with a few stern words before she really let go though.

"Cass, it's okay, I'm okay." I insisted but she shook her head in utter ignorance of my reassurances. It pissed me off a little, and if I wasn't so preoccupied with Alex I may have been tempted to argue with her, but I was.

"Your boyfriend's dead - you're not." She slapped me cold, hard in the face with her words. A reminder unneeded; a reminder I should have forgotten, because honestly being reminded about Alex was the height of irony as he was the thing I just couldn't get off my mind.

"Actually, considering that he's Alex, it's rather likely that he's not." Flyzik butted in with the words that caught my breath in my throat as I struggled to think past this.

I was still a little star struck and overly enthralled with Flyzik's melodramatic fantasies and theories; they did seem awfully unbelievable and somewhat ridiculous, but by now I was clinging on to whatever I could, because by now I was clinging on fucking dear life.

"So he's alive?" I exclaimed, a little too excitedly perhaps, causing Cassadee to release a weighted sigh. I knew how she felt about this and I desperately wanted to respect that, but I let my brewing insanity prioritise itself, because otherwise, I think without Alex, I would end up exactly like him.

Alone.

Loneliness is what drives true insanity and I slowly come to realise that this is what's driven him to the deaths of six and the events with me. Loneliness alone, but the thing with loneliness is that it gets addictive and you need it sometimes, and with some people you just can't lose, perhaps you have to lose yourself instead.

"We would hope so, yes, but as I've said, he's Alex, none of us really have a fucking clue." He finished his words off with a light-hearted chuckle that perhaps didn't quite receive the response he expected. "Okay, okay, we're going to try to figure this out though." He quickly recovered the gone aside causalities of his too light-hearted words.

"So if he's not dead, why the hell did he leave Jack alone with no explanation par an apology written in his own blood and an empty medicine cabinet?" Cassadee exclaimed, her pissed off gestures made with no effort to hide her resentment towards Flyzik.

"Yes, that's exactly what we're trying to figure out here." Flyzik added with an over exaggerated smile, formed as if he was talking to a kid and trying to hide in just how fed up he was with their never ending stupidities and general incompetence.

"So really you're just as clueless as we are." She let out a sigh, rolling her eyes and getting up. "I'm going to make lunch if you want to stay for it, just please don't fuck him up anymore." She directed her words in his direction, speaking about me as if I wasn't here.

Perhaps I would have cared if Alex were here. He wasn't.

"Giving up?" Flyzik raised his eyebrows, biting back what appeared to be the beginnings of a smirk.

"Realistic thinking." Cassadee answered with an eye roll released in full swing.

"I'd say pessimistic, honestly, but the line between the two is often very blurred." She shook her head at that, clearly more than a little pissed off with Flyzik by now. As she got up and made her way to the door, Flyzik added, "and yes, I'll be staying for lunch," perhaps just to take the piss.

She stopped for a moment, looking as if she was honestly rather close to slapping him across the face, but quite thankfully for all our sakes, she held it in and simply settled for slamming the door shut behind her.

I'd say perhaps this didn't turn out quite so thankfully for the door, though.

"Period?" Flyzik smirked, eyebrows raised as he gestured towards the slammed door.

"Dude..." My eyes widened, knowing even with my relatively incompetent knowledge of the female species, that period jokes were not a good way to go. "She's just... a little freaked out by you, I guess... I don't know."

"Yeah, I tend to have that effect on people - generally, it's rather amusing." He commented, his words utterly devoid of compassion, leaving me with quite a good idea of how he'd both managed to relate to and befriend Alex. I'd like to say I was jealous, but jealousy was utterly useless to me right now.

"So, do you actually have any idea at all as to how we're supposed to handle this?" I asked, honestly doubting he'd have anything to say at all, but holding onto my hopes for the sake of faked sanity itself. Because if you could fake it, you could make it... or you could drive yourself utterly mad trying, but either was good.

"It wasn't spontaneous - I know that." He began, clearing his throat a little to push back the raspiness with which his words habited themselves, "he'd been planning this... whatever he's done here for a while. He bulk bought a lot of those pills from me a few days before. I was reluctant to sell him that many, but you know, he's Alex, and I needed the money." He explained himself, his eyes drifting down in a clear sign of self-disappointment; I however wasn’t feeling particularly angry or sympathetic towards him.

I just wasn't feeling anything at all.

"What kind of pills were they?" My eyes widened, the possibility that Alex had been planning this for a while, let alone elaborately, never even crossing my mind. Then again, I'd never wanted it to, and that just went forward to highlight the terrible bias us humans and our emotions brought to things.

"Lots of well... pretty much everything. Mainly sedatives though, he does like his sedatives. A few recreational ones as well though - that surprised me. Alex doesn't do that shit." Flyzik shook his head a little as he recounted the experience, and his eyes hadn't met mine for about minute now.

"So what the hell do you imagine he's doing with all these pills?" I asked, doubting that he would at all have any kind of answer, but of course that was in no way going to prevent me from trying.

"If he's not clever, getting at least four centuries in prison for the amount of shit he's got in possession." Flyzik rolled his eyes and shaking his head a little as I tried my best not to imagine Alex being stuck behind bars for the rest of his life, leaving me destined never to see him again.

"He's Alex, though." I added the most obvious statement I possibly could, because well damn, I just kind of fucking felt like it.

He was clever - to get himself behind bars would never happen.

"Your unbreakable faith in him scares me a little sometimes, you know." Flyzik raised his eyebrows at me a little, but nodding in acceptance of my words nonetheless.

"Mmm..." I nodded, biting down on my lip a little, wondering whether to let the next few words slip or not - eventually, I did. "Sometimes it scares me too."

-

Jack. Day Twenty Nine - 13:46

It had been almost a month since I'd been outside, well properly, getting driven to Cassadee's apartment didn't really count considering the fact that I was in a dead inside state then and was pretty much spaced out entirely from reality, which perhaps wasn't such a bad decision.

It was weird as hell to be honest; I had almost forgotten the way the fresh breeze felt against your face and the way the grass crunched a little underneath your feet.

Long gone was the feeling of dread in the pit of my stomach regarding my capture, because although I was a missing person, I was a missing person walking rather contently through a park and anyway it was Autumn now and I was wearing this ridiculous beanie of Cassadee's so I barely looked like myself anymore.

I think even without the beanie I didn't look the same way I did a month ago; it was kind of weird to explain but I just noticed it. I felt like a different person also and I knew very well that this was all down to Alex.

It was autumn now and the leaves upon the trees were browning a little like off ripe fruit and strangely enough it was kind of beautiful, then again nature would look beautiful to someone who'd seen nothing but blood stains and psychopathy for the past month and fuck, it was one hell of a month, wasn't it?

I couldn't help but wonder what would have become of me if Alex had never started talking to me at that party, honestly it would have probably been absolutely nothing and somehow that possibility scared me more than the current one of kidnap and murder, but there was just this thing about Alex that was irreplaceable, and that was the exact thing that kept me in love with him.

It was very weird to think he was dead, honestly, and it had come to the point where confirming it to myself felt like lying, so then forth I stopped telling myself he was dead and this reality was a hell of a lot more peaceful, having just convinced myself that Alex would come back one day soon and I was just waiting for him right now.

Admittedly that sounded very sickeningly fairy-tale like, but who was I to care? With Alex gone it wasn't as if anyone had a clue as to what I was thinking.

I still couldn't understand how he did that, I guess it was just him, just something he was made to be good at, but that was way too simple especially for Alex.

It was honestly a miracle that Cassadee had let me go out on my own in the state of worry she was already in, but Flyzik had been most definitely proving to be very persuasive, putting forward the very true fact that I hadn't actually stepped outside a house for the last month which most definitely wasn't healthy. After that she let me go, albeit very reluctantly, but I tried to push my conscience aside and leave whilst I could.

It was all so fucking weird man, especially when I realised that I hadn't felt the sun on my skin for what felt like forever, leaving me to wonder just how fucking sickly pale I was. I'd probably get radiation poisoning from standing under the sun's rays for over a second.

As I continued on my journey through the park, I found myself approaching a play park that was just all too familiar and it didn't take me all that long to recognise it as the play park.

My head hurt just a little from that, especially from the realisation as to how close to home I was right now, because with staying with Alex and then Cassadee I hadn't had a clue as to where the fuck in the country I was. With Alex I could have easily even been in a different country.

I found myself sitting down on a bench underneath the enormous oak tree - that enormous oak tree. The oak tree that held more memories than anything ever should.

I remember this tree all too fucking well, and to say it hurt was simply an understatement.

-

Flashback. Jack - Age Fourteen.

To find myself sat under a tree in very close proximity to Zack Merrick was probably pretty close to a dream I'd had the other night, and I was still contemplating the reality of the situation via the means of constantly stealing glances in his direction to make sure he hadn't disintegrated or something and of course all whilst ensuring he didn't catch onto this behaviour.

"You're alright actually, you know?" My jaw dropped open in an astounded state: the guy didn't speak all that much and to have him speak to me to reassure me that he thought I was a good guy was actually causing my heart to fucking soar right out of my chest.

"T-thank you..." I stuttered out, completely at awe with what had just happened, leaving my verbal capabilities somewhat hindered.

"What's wrong, Jack?" He asked, shuffling closer to me where we sat with our backs to the enormous oak tree beside the play park. I could almost feel his breath against my skin as he spoke, causing my breath to hitch in my throat.

I shrugged, not wanting to admit just how much of a failure I was, or perhaps just how in love with him I was. I honestly doubted that either of the two would go down particularly well.

"You're Zack Merrick, like every girl fancies you and everybody loves you even though you barely even speak and I don't understand why you'd be talking to me." I blurted out before I could stop myself, my hand shooting up to cover my mouth in utter astonishment at what I'd just said.

He just chuckled at that, clearly so fucking amusing with my 'accusation' it was almost making me uncomfortable, but as if this situation wasn't already. Man, crushes are stupid.

"I-I'm sorry... I-I..."

"Dude, it's fine." He went in to give me a reassuring pat on the shoulder, but somehow his hand landed on mine and as we both looked at each other we both came to the rather instant realisation that neither of us had any desire to move whatsoever. Fuck.

"Hey, Jack, you wanna know something?" He asked, grinning like an idiot. I simply nodded in response, a little too awestruck to get any words out whatsoever.

"I never really liked girls anyway." Oh fucking shit, man, perhaps I didn't want to know something as fucking mind fucking as this, but fuck, fuck, fuck.

"Oh." Fuck, here's the guy you've been silently crushing on for just about forever telling you he's gay and there's nothing you can say but oh, well done, Jack, well done.

"What?" He laughed, pulling his hand away, and generally snapping my heart right in two in the process but then again all in a day's work for Zack Merrick. "Dude I didn't hold your hand to show off my fucking heterosexuality, did I?" He rolled his eyes, biting down on his lip. "Gonna say anything?"

"You asking me to say something is rather ironic, don't you think?" I caught him off guard with that one, the words tumbling from my lips without any chance for me to run over them to check if they would instantly cause people to hate me, and unfortunately it seems that they did.

"Whatever, kid. I remembered the reason we're not friends and this is it." He got up as quickly as he could, stepping over me like I was nothing and making his way along the path away from me.

"Zack!" I found myself yelling after him, god knows for what reason; perhaps I was just clutching onto what little hopes of sanity I had left. "What's the reason? I'm sorry." I begged, my eyes widening into a state of pleading, which I assume he took great pleasure in ignoring entirely.

"The reason, Jack Barakat, is that you're a fucking coward, come talk to me when you have the balls to admit who you are."

I never did.

-

15:02

"Kinda nostalgic, don't you think?" I jumped out of my skin as I hadn't registered the guy sitting beside me amidst my daydreams, which was probably for the best considering my missing person status that I had the misfortune of reminding myself of every few minutes.

"Oh I-- I... uhh... sorry I didn't see you there..." I mumbled, embracing my missing person status along with the reminder that this neighbourhood was awfully close to home, rendering it likely that at least one person here knew who I was and I just had to pray it wasn't the guy sat next to me.

"Yeah, you were completely spaced out there man." He smiled at me, and I tried my best to not make eye contact without looking deliberately rude or arrogant, because then he'd probably start punching me and I really was not in the mood for that.

"Yeah..." I mumbled, my gaze never meeting the stranger's, "I guess I kinda was."

"Jack..." The stranger let out a sigh and my head darted in his direction as physically fast as possible. "I know who you are." He clarified his words, leaving me to stare at the stranger who turned out to be not quite so much of a stranger after all.

"Zack, I-I-..." My breath hitched, my thoughts clouding as I glanced back up to the tree and I could almost the younger versions of ourselves, sat there awkwardly, leaving the memories of what had happened there all too familiar indeed.

"May I ask what the hell's going on with you?" He let out with a chuckle, still for some reason smiling at me, which was entirely a conundrum within itself. "I'm not going to tell anyone - don't worry." He added, perhaps for reassurance, or perhaps for bullshitted curiosity, either was good.

"I fell in love with someone." I admitted, starting at the end, deciding Zack wouldn't think I was quite so insane if I didn't start with the fact he'd kidnapped, drugged, and fucked me, perhaps if I just started with the fact that he was Alex and I was in love with him, he'd have some hopes of understanding.

"Yeah, that’s a terrible idea - never do that." He chuckled, giving me a friendly shove; a gesture I never could ever quite understand why people did.

"I couldn't help myself... I... he's just so... fuck..." I let out a sigh, my mind completely infecting itself with thoughts of Alex; I really just could not stop myself and I knew very well that this was going to ruin me someday.

"He?" Zack picked up on with a smirk, meeting my gaze and allowing me to blush severely, because fuck, Zack now knew that Alex was he, and that I was gay... but so was he... I assumed. God this was confusing as hell.

"Am I still a coward?" I asked, the corners of my lips twitching and tugging, as they demanded to be released into a smirk.

"God, you still remember that, don't you?" He buried his head in his hands, leaving me to nod even though he couldn't see me. "I’m fucking sorry, man. I freaked out."

"Why?" I couldn't help but ask, possibly and most likely worsening the situation with my curiosity.

"My reputation, I was scared you'd tell people I was gay... and stuff... I stopped caring about my reputation when they found out about me and this guy, Rian, but Rian, he cared and he cared enough to end it between us and I guess that serves me right. I guess I kind of know how you feel and god..."

"Seriously, it's okay, I've been through worse." I admitted, trying to look as reassuring, comforting and compassionate as possible whilst not really touching him at all, which as you would imagine is a lot easier, said than done.

"So did you like run away or something, dude?" He asked, his eyes wandering back up to meet with mine. "Because clearly you're not being held against your will here, are you?"

"No, I got kidnapped, actually..." It was certainly a hell of a lot weirder to say it aloud, leaving me to wonder why the hell I was, but then again, I remembered, despite the years that had passed, this was still Zack Merrick and I was still just a little in awe of the guy.

"What?" His eyes almost bulged out of his skull.

"It's kinda fucked up because, it's this guy who kidnapped me..." I slowly pulled the words from my lips. "He's my boyfriend and then... things changed and we fell in love, but fuck, he might be dead right now, right now he could be dead and no one knows what the hell's happened..."

"Slow down a minute there." He exhaled loudly, clearly having difficulty either believing or simply wanting to believe the words that left my lips. "You fell in love with the dude that kidnapped you? That's kinda messed up, man."

"I know, I know." I let out a sigh, burying myself in the situation and just how utterly fucked up the whole thing was. "I thought he left to kill himself or something - he wrote kind of like a note and he took loads of pills and then I went to stay with a friend and a friend of his is over there now with her and the friend of his, Matt Flyzik, he thinks he isn't dead, because Alex wouldn't kill himself, but I don't know, everything's really fucked up..."

"So you have a possibly dead boyfriend and your staying in a house with some girl and a drug dealer.... that's really not okay, Jack, you know." He met my eyes, almost preaching this shit at me, which I mustn’t lie disconcerted me more than just a little, but he has a kinda scary preacher voice, who can blame him?

"How did you-" I began, confused as to how he knew about Flyzik.

"Everyone in my circles have heard of Flyzik, dude." He let out with sigh, reminding me of just how polar opposite the two of us were meant to be.

"Yeah well, that’s what's happening." I admitted, wondering just how completely astounded myself from a month ago would have been if you told him all of this shit was going to happen. I bet he wouldn't even believe you.

"Do you not want to tell your brother about this, he's been completely fucked up over this?" Zack exclaimed, his voice emphasising in all the right ways to ensure guilty flooded my brain, blocking off any hopes of any rational decisions.

"Wait.. what?" I looked up at him in shock, not accounting for the fact that Joe might give a damn about his missing. "He cares?"

"What the fuck, Jack? Of course he cares!" Zack yelled, almost pissed off at me now, which was just fucking lovely. It wasn't as if I was in enough stress with my fucking boyfriend possibly dead already was it?

"It really didn't seem like it." I admitted, my head hanging kind of limply. "It was at his party that this happened - Alex was there and... Then I wasn't..."

"Everyone freaked the fuck out when you were missing you know." Zack explained, seemingly far too insist upon enforcing the fact that someone cared about me; I knew someone cared about me, I knew people cared about me and I knew that they were Alex and Cassadee, and possibly Flyzik on a good day.

"I thought it was my fault." He bit down on his lip after releasing the few words that I might possibly have wanted to hear least in the world.

"Wait, what?" I couldn't fucking believe this; how could he think it was his fault when we hadn't even spoken for a few years by then.

"This was just after Rian and god I felt so bad about what had happened with you, I knew it was years ago but I couldn't help but blame myself..." He trailed off, blushing a little and generally causing me to feel like shit.

"I'm sorry, for being such a coward." I smiled up at him.

"No, Jack, seriously. I was an ass."

"No, I was a coward."

"Oh shut up." He laughed at me, and soon enough I had joined him.

"Are you going to tell your brother anything?" He asked once more, a little more timidly this time.

"How well do you think he'll take the whole possibly dead kidnapper boyfriend shit, and the fact that Alex has killed six people isn't exactly helping things-" I threw my hand over my mouth as I came to realise just what the hell I'd spurted out.

"Fucking hell... Jack... so he's a serial killer too?" I nodded, simply glad he hadn't utterly freaked out on me yet. "You know he was probably planning on killing you too?"

"I know." I bit on my lip, not entirely wanting to relive certain memories in Alex and I's relationship. "He told me."

"Jesus... this is weird... did you two ever have sex?" He asked out of nowhere, although he really shouldn't have.

I drew my eyes downwards, memories I really did not want to think about running rampant in my head. "Yeah, a few times."

"He went and r aped you, didn't he?"

I wanted to answer, to deny it, but the words were stuck in my throat, leaving me with no hopes of fixing the mess I'd created.

"Fucking hell, Jack." He let out a sigh. "You can't be fucking in love with someone's who did that to you."

"But I am..." Was all I managed to force out.

"Jack, I'm not letting you go back to him and whoever the hell you're staying with." He grabbed my hand in a manner that brought me back all too much.

"I need to go back though, Cassadee's going to be worried..." I begged.

"He's fucked you up, Jack. I'm not letting you stay in this kind of world, okay?" 

"Zack, please I-"

"Do you want me to tell your parents where you are and what's happened?" I shook my head firmly at that.

"Then come on," He tugged on my arm, "you're staying at mine for a while."

-

Day Thirty. Jack - 18:24

"You don't love me, Jack. No one fucking loves me, not Rian, not you, no one." Zack snarls in my direction, the familiar look in his eyes long gone and replaced with a maniacal one that really seems so alien upon Zack's memorably innocent face - he's fucked up to say the least but today all of us are fucked up and there's very little anyone can do about that at all.

"I care about you, Zack-" I began and he steps forward from the doorway to face me, a menacing look igniting in his eyes.

"Spit out the shit, Barakat." He snapped, rolling his eyes away like any hopes I had of getting on his apparently none existent good side, because this was all so fucking ironic to see Zack call Alex a monster and then turn into such a ferocious monster that Alex is made to look like a fucking puppy.

"I love Alex, you know that." The words came out as barely more than a mumble, their only purpose served to provide Zack with answers he already knew too well, and he hated that. I knew he hated that. He hated Alex, just because I loved him.

I didn't understand how Zack could possibly imagine that he'd have the rights to emotions like this; after all, he'd broken my heart in the first place. I guess he didn't like the idea that it had been Alex, not himself, who'd been the one to fix it, but in my defence I couldn't wait forever with a broken heart, and Alex came disguised as a monster with a heart made of stone, so how was I to know just how hard I was going to fall for him?

"Alex is fucking dead." He yelled at me, stepping forward and causing me to shudder back into the wall in the childish hope that it, that anything may protect me from whatever Zack was planning upon next.

Quite honestly, now he scared me and that was something I'd never thought I'd say. I barely even knew this Rian guy he'd mentioned earlier, but I knew that he must have loved him, because god this Rian guy fucked him up real bad here, and that was becoming increasingly evident, because this wasn't the Zack I knew, this wasn't the Zack I knew at all and I hated that things had to turn out like this after all.

"He's not." I continued, not even believing in my own words by now, which was slowly destroying me too, leaving the both of us in an utter state of fakery.

"You're far too sure of this, Jacky." And that was the one thing he couldn't say, he just couldn't' call me Jacky, he couldn't do this to me - I wouldn't let him. I would not let him at all.

"Don't call me that!" My timid mumble grew a mane as it transformed into a lion's roar. "Don't you dare, fucking call me that."

"That was his little nickname for you, wasn't it?" Zack rolled his eyes, a smirk twitching at his lips. "Pathetic, don't you think? Why would he make you love him and trust him so much just for him to let you down in the end, just for him to be dead in the end? He's an utter asshole in my opinion. A Rian kind of asshole. I know how it feels Jack, just listen to me."

"Let me fucking leave." I snapped in response, his words meaning nothing to me - Alex had trained me for this, because emotions had uses sometimes of course, but in others they were useless and now being one of them.

If I were the same Jack from a month ago then surely I would have fallen right under Zack's spell. A month ago I would have fallen right under anybody's spell. You couldn't blame me though, I was naive and stupid. I hadn't a clue as to what the real world was like, not really.

"Not a chance - I'm keeping you safe here." Zack lied like he meant it, and that was how I found myself more in fear of my old high school crush than the psychotic serial killer I liked to call my boyfriend.

"But Alex-" I made one last attempt to try and convince Zack that I didn't care for him in that way, and that my heart lay firmly in Alex's hands, but it was clear that he was stubborn and that he absolutely wasn't having any of it.

"Alex is dead." He let out a weighted sigh. "Honestly, Jack, I don't want to say it, but I honestly am beginning to think that he's driven you insane too."

I gave up then - I wasn't quite that stupid. I simply left Zack with a blank expression before I turned away and put my trust in Alex, I put my trust in Flyzik and Cass, because they care and they'd notice I was gone. This was different to when Alex took me - my family didn't care, but when Zack too me, my new family, consisting of a drug dealer, a kind hearted office girl with a strong maternal flair, and my boyfriend, Alex Gaskarth, the serial killer. My new family, they care.

And with my hopes put into the three people in the word that I'd ever cared for the most, there was nothing left for me than to beg that Zack, that the whole world, was lying to me. I begged for Alex not to be dead.

I begged with all I had left inside me. I begged with all that Zack hadn't taken away from me - I begged with my hope, my love, and my trust.

-

Alex. 22:18

What I've been is, quite simply, a coward.

I never quite made it down to the police station; I couldn't even do that, god I'm pathetic and the urge to kill someone is stronger than ever before.

I think for Jack I'm still here but I know that's a lie, because the only reason I made my way out of the rut we were stuck in and down to the authorities was for Jack.

All I did was for Jack.

I was prepared for what I thought I'd face when I got there: the police, the interrogations, the arrest, the imprisonment, and the fact that I'd never see Jack never again, but what I didn't account for was what really made this all happened.

As I approached the police station, my head hung low, I saw someone I thought I'd never see again, and someone I quite frankly didn't want to.

-

Alex. Flashback - Day Twenty Six.

The police station was nearing in step with my fate and by now, from the walk across town I was ready for this - I was ready for my own justice and god I was even beginning to get comfortable with the idea.

It was kind of easy really - all I had to do was remind myself why I was doing this, all I had to do was remind myself who I was doing this for - Jack. All of it, everything had always and would always be for him. I guess that's just the way my life had to be.

He'd brought them back - the emotions in their masses and god I couldn't leave him to rot away in our shared insanity. He reminded me of myself when I had a shot at life, and this time I could let that slip away, and quite I honestly I just wasn't going to let myself.

"Alex?" My heart stopped in my chest at the call of my own name. I felt like freezing right there on the spot and pretending I either hadn't heard or that my identity was one of another, but with the sound of quickened footsteps my instincts forced me to turn and face the one who my name had slipped from the lips of.

"Dude, hey! I haven't seen you in a while, about a month, isn't it by now?" I forced a smile as the man came to stand beside me, just across the street from the police station leaving me stuck horribly in the quicksand like reality that I couldn't make it even for Jack's sake.

"Yeah, Joe." I bit my lip, my gaze prolonged on its ascent, as I didn't particularly want to find myself face to face with Joe Barakat, especially not in the circumstance, especially not when my heart ached with guilt for his brother and just what I'd put the both of them through. "About a month."

"It's a shame you couldn't make it to that party, hey..." Joe let out a sigh, our minds now sharing the same subject, I assumed.

"I'm sorry about Jack." I didn't have to lie anymore, because I was sorry, for the first time in my life I was truly sorry and it was of course entirely Jack Barakat's fault. After all, no one else in the world was quite like Jack. Even Joe, being his closest blood relation didn't even come close. "I hope he comes back to you."

"Yeah," he puled his lips into what I could easily tell was a false smile. Fuck, this was a sorrow I'd caused and one I had to put right immediately, god if only, god if only I could just get to that police station across the road and then this could all be put right. "We just gotta hope he comes back alive..."

I could blurt it out to him right now, and then I'm sure he'd take matters into his own hands and drag me across to the police station on his own accord, but I doubted he'd believe me, considering this 'friendship' we shared, and then with the sad look he held what seemed to be permanently in his eyes, I just couldn't do it. I couldn't watch him break right in front of me, because Jack cared about his brother even if he didn't do a good job of showing it and now I didn't want to do anything that would even remotely hurt Jack at all.

"Don't worry," I heaved out a sigh, my stomach flipping around inside me, "I've got a good feeling about this, you know, Jack was always never swayed by people. I hate to admit it, but I've seen people bully him before I knew either of you, and he didn't care, he was always so strong about, and whoever this asshole who's done whatever he's done to him, I know that somehow Jack is going to bring them right down to justice."

"Alex, I'm glad someone cares so much about him, god, it feels like most people are just pretending to give a damn because it's the 'polite' thing to do, but I'm so pissed off with that, I don't care about polite I just want my brother back and I want someone to give the slightest of a damn." He exclaimed, his eyes travelling elsewhere. "He really needs the both of us. I've been praying for him every night, do you want to pray with me or something?"

"I didn't know you were Christian..." I trailed off as I slowly came to realise just how loss affected humans, just how loss affected people that I cared about.

"God's my only hope now, isn't he?" He let out a dark chuckle.

"I think Jack's strong enough without any kind of religious shit." I admitted, guessing I'd offend him just a little with that statement, but I guessed that it wouldn't be that bad if he got pissed off because then, perhaps he'd leave me alone and then I could make my way to the police station in search of the justice that Jack really deserved.

"Don't ever give up, okay, don't ever let him go, even if he survives, because I think that's when he'll need us, and he'll need you the most. Please don't be like the rest and stop giving a fuck about him, and leave him when the storm blows over."

"I won't." I smiled. "I promise."

-

Day Thirty. Alex - 22:32

I couldn't do it after that, I couldn't go in, because Joe's words had meant a lot more than I had imagined them to, because he hadn't just told me to do the right thing for Jack, he'd told me never to let him go, never to leave him.

I'd promised him I'd never leave Jack alone, and now was when I came to realise just what I was doing here, just how I'd fucked so much up without realising.

Perhaps I did need emotions after all.

I overestimated this head of mine far too often. I didn't just work like magic, I couldn't just work like magic and I had to accept that I was as much human as anybody else was, and most of all I had to accept these emotions, these feelings and I had to go back to Jack.

I considered making my way back across town and away from the little homeless shelter I was frequently the edges of, but I hadn't a clue that Jack would still be in that damn house of mine, and I could make him wait any longer, so I guessed I had to do something stupid, that I told myself I wouldn't do after I let that house.

I brought my mobile, and I brought it for emergencies only, not to get cold feet and call Alex, and let myself fall back into rut, to cling onto him and never let go, but now it came to me that the source of our problems wasn't how I could never let go, it was how I could never hold on tight enough in the first place.

I didn't bring people down with me, I let them slip from my grasp and by the oddest of circumstances it took me Joe Barakat's unintentionally painfully meaningful words to remind me of that.

I remembered how Jack reminded me of myself when I still had a chance, and I remembered just how lost I was, just how alone, and all that I wanted, all that I needed was a hand to hold, and I knew more than anything I'd ever known before that I just wasn't going to let Jack fall victim to the same fate.

I pulled my phone out and I pressed down the power button, watching the life, hope, and love spark back into me as it did into the cellular device. It was kind of ridiculous really, how all it took to get me seeing straight again was the Barakat brothers and a cell phone I barely used.

Before I could even unlock the phone I felt it vibrate in my grasp and the call screen appearing on the display. It wasn't Jack though; the name displayed on the caller I.D. was Flyzik's. I guess he'd noticed my disappearance too. I just would have hoped it to be Jack's voice I heard first.

"Alex?" He practically screamed down the line as I picked up, and I put the phone against my ear despite the fact I could hear him regardless due to the tone of voice he'd chosen to use.

"Flyzik...?" I responded, not having prepared for the fact that anyone besides Jack would have missed me at all.

I mean, Flyzik wasn't one of the most likely suspects for care and worry, being a drug dealer and black market smuggler who had taken just a little bit of a disliking towards me in the recent past, which I must admit was mainly to do with just how much I was fucking up Jack, and just how much I couldn't see that.

I guess that somehow he could.

"You're fucking alive, dude what the fuck man? What the actual fuck have you done? Where the actual fuck have you been? You fucking asshole do you not even know how fucking worried we've all been, everyone thought you were fucking dead, you absolute dick. Give me a fucking explanation and be fucking glad this conversation isn't in person so I can't just slap you right across the face and perhaps aim a punch to your eye, and one to your balls, and everywhere else. I could fucking knock you out right now, you fuckwit, tell me what the fuck's going on!"

"I would have if you'd given me a moment to speak-" He cut off my sarcastic remark before I could finish, which I must say was just a little disheartening, considering that remark was something I had grown to be awfully proud of.

"Shut the fuck up Gaskarth, I don't have time for your bullshit right now, you understand me?" He continued in his ear-splitting tone of voice and I decided it was probably best to cut back the sarcastic remarks, if only for the sake of my own eardrums.

"I was going to hand myself in... To the police, I was going to go down to the police station and tell them who I am and what I've done-" I began to explain only to be cut off by another screaming outburst from a particularly pissed off Flyzik.

"Why the fuck would you do that? Who the fuck do you think you are? Fucking Jesus? You're just a sadistic little fuck who needs to calm the fuck down and assess the situation as if they weren't on some sort of artificial dickhead pedestal."

"Just let me speak, please. I just saw what I was doing to Jack and just how in love with me he was, and he how much he just couldn't be, because god I was fucking him up and no matter how horrible I was to him, he just wouldn't listen, and the only way I could give him a chance, the only way I could give him a chance at a life I never got was by forcefully removing myself from his life. I care more about Jack's chance at a decent life more than how much I need him."

"Well that sounds sufficiently sappy and love sickening, but please you absolute asshole tell me where you and Jack are?"

"Me and Jack?" Wait, what? What the fuck was going on here.

"He went out the other day, presumably to look for you, well that's what I think happened, he said he knew what he was doing. He just didn't tell us that he was looking for you, because Cassadee was there and she was convinced that you're dead, but god- fuck!"

"Dude what?" I exclaimed, thoughts running through my head like hell, because all I'd done by getting away was put Jack in more danger.

"He didn't go out to look for you at all..." And for the first time Flyzik's voice grew incredibly quite, and for first time I wanted him to yell again, because I couldn't handle this silence and this heartache, not at all.

"What the fuck has happened?" I yelled just to fill the silence.

"He thought you killed yourself, you know, and I'm scared, I'm just so scared, that he's gone off to do the same..."

-

Day Thirty One. Jack - 1:44

"Zack, please!" His name leaves my mouth as barely more than a hoarse whisper - a scream once gone, and it hurts more than anything to know that despite my screams and protests, he's never going to listen, and he's never going to stop.

I'm truly beginning to think that whoever this Rian kid is, he's driven Zack right out of the breaches of insanity, and to say it's hurting my heart would be an understatement, because I just can't help but respect him and trust him, because in my mind he's still just the older kid I had a crush on in school, and not this, not Zack Merrick who... went mad.

"Your boyfriend's fucking dead." He remarked, his eyes locked onto mine, almost burning into my pupils and I wouldn't be all that surprised if I was suddenly rendered blind or something. "Do you not get that, because to me it seems pretty fucking simple, you know?" His words cut into me like dozens of tiny little blades intent solely upon my utter destruction.

"You don't know that for certain, though do you?" I dared to ask, my voice piping up in an utterly pathetically timid tone, which I'm sure took all his self control for him not to laugh at. Not to revel in just how broken I was right now, because god, this wasn't Zack Merrick at all, this was a monster who'd stolen his shoes and run off in them.

"No, of course not." Zack rolled his eyes, sitting down on the bed and watching me as I continued to cower into the corner, looking at me as if my actions were entirely irrational and he had no bad intentions whatsoever, which was of course completely mindfucking, thank you. "But I would say my guesses towards the whereabouts of your boyfriend are much more realistic than yours, considering I'm not grieving."

"You're upset over Rian, though." I treaded carefully with my words, knowing far too well that the situation I was in was mostly certain not one of a safe nature, but of course, it's not like it could get all that much worse. "I can see that."

"Don't you fucking dare talk about him." He snapped back in response, his eyes however drifted elsewhere, and the fact that he couldn't bare to look me in the eyes was either a very good or a very bad sign indeed. I was going to go with the optimistic side here.

"Zack..." I let out a hitched breath, wondering if there was any way I could get myself out of this and possibly find Alex alive, because honestly, Zack was right, the longer Alex was missing, the lesser the chance he'd be found alive. And considering that Alex was Alex, if he didn't want to be found, he wouldn't be, which certainly put us in quite a predicament.

"He's dead." He blurted out, almost like a set response, and perhaps almost like he was convincing himself with every word he said, which would certainly be confusing for the both of us.

I wondered if Zack was at all sane right now. I quite honestly doubted it, but there was of course very little I could do about it, so optimism seemed to be my best bet right now.

"Can we talk about Rian?" I asked, my voice barely audible but in the silence of the room it was as clear as fucking day; my heart barely beating in the silence that was consumed only by shuddered breaths, reluctant to be taken.

"What is there left to say?" He scoffed, rolling his eyes a little, and in that motion I could see that they were red and puffy and the reality shook me hard - he'd been crying. And oh god I hated the wave of sympathy that thrashed over me right then. "He decided he was better than me, and that's that... pretty simple to understand, don't you think?"

"Not really." I sighed, knowing that this conversation was within its entirety, a bad idea, but I just couldn't help myself, most likely because I was fucking stupid, but oh well, the odds were right now that I was going to die anyway, perhaps that wouldn't be so bad, perhaps. Who knows? If Alex were dead too then perhaps I'd see him again.

"Rian clearly had his reasons for doing what he did, and you know I think you should try to understand that a little bit..." My words almost sounded alien coming from my lips in the confident manner with which they departed. And the whole realisation of that was sickening through and through.

He simply laughed in my face, which was of course lovely and confidence boosting, "You sound like my fucking therapist." He rolled the words off his tongue as if they had no impact, which they most certainly did.

"You have a therapist?" I asked, eyes widened, and perhaps not all that surprised considering the state of sanity that I'd been presented with from him, but the fact that he'd actually gone and done something about it was surprising, and even perhaps admirable. Well... it was more likely that he was forced to go see said therapist by a doctor or anyone with a sane mind or something.

He simply shrugged in response to my question, which I would guess to be the first indefinitive answer I'd received from those lips. "Something about my reactions to things... I don't know..."

"What does your therapist say to you?" I asked, just a little too interested in the answer for this to be just stalling by now. And I think the both of us were aware of that.

"What she says or doesn't say doesn't mean shit." He broke out of his sadness almost as if it was a trance; his eyes snapping up to meet mine as his lips turned up into something unforgettably smirk like. "You're just fucking stalling aren't you?"

"No, I want to know-" I began to explain, to reason with him even, which was an absurd idea within its entirety, and I knew that through and through.

"Fuck off." He rolled his eyes, standing up and making his way over to the dresser, and then continued to pulling out the drawers, rummaging around in them and searching for something, or at least that was what I presumed - either that or he'd simply gone insane. Not that the latter was all that impossible, or even hadn't happened yet, which was a horrible sickening thought, and not one I wished to dwell upon at all.

"What are you doing?" The words slipped from my lips, only leaving me to realise that it probably hadn't been the best of ideas with the harshness at which his response came.

"Getting down to fucking business." And before my heart could continue beating, he spun around, facing me with nothing other than a fucking pistol. And oh my god, fuck. How was one guy pointing a gun at me scarier than having lived with a serial killer for a month?

"You said you took me here to protect me from Alex, yet you're acting worse than him." I told him bluntly, my eyes open and wide as they looked up to meet his and convey nothing but the truth. I doubted he'd take the truth for an answer though, especially not if it didn't perfectly fit into his idea of reality, which seemed to be growing further flawed simply as time went on, almost as if his head was destroying himself from the inside out.

"Alex is irrelevant right now." He spoke simply, his eyes fixated upon the gun, almost as if it fascinated him. I however reckoned it scared him more than anything, and I doubted that the thing was even loaded, let alone that he'd have the guts to fire it. However I wasn't going to bet anything on an insanity like his.

"Actually, Alex is very relevant right now." I didn't know where these guts of mine had suddenly come from but in no way was I complaining.

"Alright then, if you want to talk about that rapist dickhead, then here we go." I watched his eyes with concern, which only heightened as I caught sigh of the smirk that his lips wore with far too much pride indeed. "Break it off with him." He demanded, almost as if his words were nothing but to be expected and as if I was the one who was at fault here and not the man who held the gun in his very hands.

"How could I even if I wanted to?" I asked, wondering how Zack expected me to break up with a man he proclaimed to be dead.

"Oh, so now you accept that he's dead?" He smirked, lowering the gun slightly; presumably pleased with the results the weapon had given him up to this point.

"No, he's missing. I have no contact with him whatsoever." I corrected him, trying my best to keep my expression neutral as to give him nothing to latch onto and abuse to his own will. He'd most likely find something nonetheless as he was Zack and this seemed to have become his speciality, if you will.

"Missing basically translates as dead." He threw the words out like they didn't hurt at all, which they fucking die, well... except I could destruct that theory of his with the simplicity of my existence.

"I'm missing." I pointed out, gesturing towards my very much alive body.

"I know." He said, gesturing towards the gun. "So I'd suggest you break it off with him."

"No." Came my response, firm, naive, and utterly stupid, but necessary nonetheless, because I needed to stand up to assholes one day, and I guess today was that day. "I love him."

"Well, that really does put us in an interesting situation, does it not?" He fucking laughed, grabbing his cell phone from his pocket and unlocking it with one hand, the other one continuing to hold the gun pointed in my direction.

"W-What are you doing?" The words stumbled haphazardously from my lips as my uncertainty came to take a hold of what was left of my consciousness. "W-what..."

And the only thing my ears could catch before I drifted out of consciousness was the words I'd wanted to hear least in the world. "Come over if you want your boyfriend to live."

-

2:21

"You're a stupid fuck, you know that." I woke up to find myself chained to the dresser by my ankles, and as pulled my eyelids open I kind of wished I hadn't, because there before me, stood Zack and Alex, each holding guns pointed at one another.

"Stupid enough to lure you here within minutes." Zack scoffed, rolling his eyes, glaring at the figure that was most definitely my boyfriend, who despite Zack's claims was most definitely very much alive.

"Alex..." I croaked out, my eyes widening as I met his gaze, seeing just how bruised, sleep deprived, and utterly fucked up he looked - it was not something I'd ever wanted to see.

"You told me he was dead!" My attention instantly snapped towards Zack. "You told me he was fucking dead."

"Lying is a useful asset." He commented casually, almost rolling his eyes in the process, and I hated the feeling that everyone else in the room was smarter than me. "Right come on then, loverboy, who's it going to be?" He turned back to Alex, leaving me frozen as I was ridden in an utter state of confusion.

"I'll shoot you before you shoot either of us." Alex threatened him, but with no visible effects upon Zack, his words almost useless when fired in the direction of the muscled guy.

"Would you really like to take your chances like that?" Zack's lips twisted upwards into a smirk, and that was when I knew who the psychopath really was. "I know what you did to him, you disgusting fuck, are you going to let me look after him and show him the love he deserves, the love you can’t give him?"

"Over my dead body." Alex snarled in response, and I knew then that I really did not like where this was going. Inevitability was awfully strong though, and I just hated that I couldn't do anything at all. I couldn't help... I was fucking useless... fuck.

"Okay, then." And Zack fires, and before I can concentrate upon what's happening a thud resonates around the room as Alex, or what's left of him hits the floor, lifelessly.

And that was how it shouldn't have been, because it was my fault, I'd ruined Alex, if it wasn't for me, he'd be alive right now, it should have been me to die, and not him.

It couldn't be true, it just couldn't be.... Alex wasn't dead; he couldn't be dead, he couldn't- no, no, no. He wasn't. He just fucking wasn't, but he was, and the body in the direction my eyes daren’t to look confirmed it all.

"Fuck... I've killed him... I-I-i... Killed someone...." Zack had the nerve to start fucking crying, and quite honestly, I could shoot him too. And oh god, that idea was getting even further appealing by the second and I should have stopped the thought as soon as it started, but it was too late now, I guess.

"Don't even fucking cry you fucking asshole." I screamed at him, practically destroying my vocal chords in the process. "You fucking killed him, he's fucking dead."

"I guess you got what you wanted, hey, you turned out just as insane as he did." Zack rolled off a comment as he noticed the way my hands moved to edge myself forward, my ankles still chained to the object behind me.

A second bang resonated as he dropped the gun to the ground, it slipping from his fingers along with the rest of his sanity.

Not a single thought crossed my head before the third bang resonated and that was as Zack lay cold on the floor, and the gun lay in my fingertips, guilt sinking into my veins like poison.

I stayed there frozen for a few moments, glancing between the two dead bodies that lay upon Zack's bedroom floor.

A thousand thoughts raced through my head; how the police would react to this situation, and just how alone I really was now. I guess Zack was right in the end, Alex was dead after all, I guess it just took him to make sure of that.

I can't take this anymore.

I couldn't even do it from the get go, it was all so fucking whirlwind and almost magical, but in a weirdly sadistic way, but fuck, I needed it, and now I couldn't, I could never just go back to being Jack Barakat, who lives in a stupid fucking detached house in Baltimore, with a mum, and two siblings.

I was Jacky, Alex Gaskarth's boyfriend, and I'd keep things that way.

-

Alex - 2:42

I came to consciousness, and opened my eyes as fast as I could, scared to have lost Jack to this monster, but I opened my eyes all too late, because I heard the gunshot before I caught sight of what remained of my boyfriend - blood guts and brains on the monster's bedroom floor.

It was astounding at first and quite honestly, I just didn't want to believe it, but the evidence was there in Jack's dead body, and the fact that I had driven him here and all in all I'd caused this, perhaps not directly, but the evidence was very solidly there in the fact that he kept fighting for me, and lost himself that way.

I tried to scramble up and do something, anything about the situation at hand, but I found myself unable to move, my body almost pinned to the floor as if someone was crushing my abdomen.

That was when I remembered the gunshot, leaving it comical that I'd even forgotten the bullet in my abdomen in the first place. 

It was a lousy shot, and I guess I could survive this, but Jack couldn't, Jack didn't, and my life really just didn't matter nearly as much anymore. Jack was just fucking everything, and perhaps, I had the right mind to grab the gun and shoot myself too, and then the two of us could die together, but fuck, that was terribly Romeo and Juliet and I think I would just about be sick from the sappiness that came with it.

I'd laid down at first, staying put, not just from the pain, but because I heard what Zack said, I knew he wanted me to choose between my life and Jack's, so perhaps if he believed I was dead he'd spare Jack. And I even reckoned he might have, but what I didn't consider was that Jack might not spare himself.

This was all my fault - he'd never be like this, he'd never be quite so broken without my initial corruption. I wondered what it would have been like if I'd just left him at that party. I could have fallen in love with him from a far and he could have had a happy, healthy life, perhaps with someone else, but I think right now, simply for him to be alive would be enough.

What really hurt was that now Joe was going to know that I was wrong.... fuck.... the police... I needed to get out of here or that would have even more disastrous consequences than the emotional ones. I just couldn't fucking move. Fuck. Fuck. I should have shot Zack first and then, then it'd all be okay, but fuck, I was fucking stupid.. I... fuck. I needed to get out of here.

Zack's cellphone, fuck. And as I held the device in my hand I lay back, and dialled a number I'd memorised, but for different purposes entirely. I called someone that would be angry enough to shoot me on sight, but I had no choice left.

I left Jack to set things right, I left to turn myself in, to end myself, and I ended up doing the exact opposite.

I guess I just got what I really wanted in the end; Jack always had to be my number seven.

We feel so empty and our late twenties should be better times.   
It's the love and the truth and the hope and the faith,   
That will destroy us in the end. 

 

-EPILOGUE-

Alex is laid across the sofa, his stomach propped up with a cushion and his head turned slightly to the left in our to keep his eyes on the TV screen - he doesn't want to, and really just can't, miss this.

His eyes fixate upon the smiling face of the newsreader. He wonders how she can go through everyday, continuously reporting upon the many deaths, murders and rapes in our community with that enormous smile plastered across her lips.

Perhaps they're beginning to employ psychopaths as newsreaders these days. Perhaps Alex would've made a good newsreader, but not anymore, because this ache in his heart is far too real.

He continues to watch, waiting for the story he's been both dreading and anticipating, clutching his badly bandaged abdomen; the memories forever imprinted upon him with a gunshot wound, which he now reckons that he shouldn't have survived.

Cassadee was reluctant to bandage him up independently and not take him into hospital, but Alex knows that a hospital bed would be the last place he'd want to be right now. She's simply satisfied that he's alive for the moment, despite her initial dislike towards him, she has the compassion for Jack to know that what he'd want to her to do is look after Alex for him, no matter how difficult that appears to be.

She's sat in the armchair beside the sofa, facing the TV screen at a forty five degree angle, allowing her to take in the happenings on screen whilst keeping an eye on Alex.

Flyzik is stood at the doorway, his arms crossed and his gaze directed towards the wooden floorboards of Cassadee's home. He's reluctant to sit; his mind focused upon the events of the past few days, wondering quite how they switched from losing Alex to losing Jack. And although he isn't exactly the most compassionate of people, Matt Flyzik is upset to lose either.

The second phone call was most definitely the hardest thing he's ever had to experience. He's unsure whether it was the broken tone of Alex's words or the heart wrenching meaning behind them that really got to him.

He reckons he deserves several speeding tickets for just how violently he drove both himself and Cassadee across town to the address Alex barely managed to choke out. He barely even has time to stop the car before he's leapt out, shouting back at Cassadee to stay in the car - he didn't want her to see this. He didn't want to see it either, but that day Flyzik found out that perhaps compassion was worth something after all.

He didn't look at Jack or Zack as he entered the bedroom; he knew they were long dead by now. Alex began to explain the situation and the wound in his stomach, but Flyzik told him not to and carried his bleeding friend downstairs, leaving Jack behind for the authorities to find. He reckons Jack's family deserve the funeral more than the three of them do.

Cassadee gasped at the sight of Alex, almost dead in Flyzik's arms. He doesn't respond until Alex is laid out across the backseat with his head in Cassadee's lap and he's speeding back to Cassadee's home. And only then does he respond with instructions; he tells Cassadee to open her front door and the door to the spare bedroom. She's confused, of course, but Flyzik only has time to ask her to also get out her first aid supplies, before they arrive, and Cassadee grabs her keys, following Flyzik's instructions for the sake of Jack Barakat.

Flyzik had never wanted to carry his best friend's limp body inside to be poorly stitched up by someone who only did first aid in school, but life doesn't let you have much of a say in these things.

He knew Alex would protest against the idea of hospital already, and that they'd have better chances if they just stitched and bandaged him at home. It was a lousy shot anyway.

Alex laughs at the sedatives but swallows them regardless and somehow wakes up two hours later with no ails beside an aching abdomen, which hurts as he moves.

Alex doesn't reckon he deserves to be alive and even considers what would have happened if Zack's shot hadn't been quite so lousy or if he'd have grabbed the gun after Jack and shot himself too, but right now he's alive and isn't quite stupid enough to be ungrateful for that.

The news reader's voice breaks all three out of their thoughts, her face devoid of expression as he mouth fires out most painful words Alex thinks he's ever heard.

"Jack Barakat has now been found dead after being missing for thirty one days. Jack Barakat and Zackary Merrick were found dead today in a house in Baltimore, Maryland. The house belongs to Mr Merrick - the older of the two men and police suspect that Mr Merrick was involved in a possible kidnapping of Mr Barakat. Both bodies had gunshot wounds to the forehead and police suspect Mr Barakat was murdered by Mr Merrick, who then took the gun to his own head perhaps after realising just what he'd done to the young man from Baltimore. The funeral-"

Her voice is cut off as Flyzik slams his finger down against the TV remote.

"I can't watch this anymore." He explains as two sets of eyes lock on him.

Cassadee nods - she understands, and with that Flyzik makes his way upstairs, leaving the two of them alone together.

"Jacky killed him, not the other way around." Alex says into the silence his teeth gritted.

"Alex, I would be glad that Jack hasn't got the charge of murder on him." 

"But they don't understand-"

"Don't expect them to." Cassadee sighs and leaves the room, "I'll fix something to eat." She offers as an explanation.

Alex isn't really listening; his eyes are fixated upon the sedatives she's abandoned on the table just a foot away.

His heartaches more than his abdomen as he stretches to reach for them, and he knows there's simply nothing else left for him to do.

He just wants to ease pain. He wants to forget.

After all, one can't hurt. 

-


End file.
